The Power Of Prayer...?

Ok. I've had toothache for a while. Thursday night, it got so bad that I went to the dentist on Friday. I was loathe to do so, because I realised that I'd probably need major root canal work done, and I wasn't sure that I could sing at the Missa Cantata for the Assumption with numb lips, tongue and gums... rather a vital consideration, as there were only three of us in the "schola" !

Anyway, it turned out that the dentist was unwilling to do anything until I'd taken some antibiotics. Then I could have the root canal work done, a crown added, and whatever else needed sorting. So I had a reprieve until Monday morning. But the pain was still bad enough to ensure that I kept the appointment...

After a bad night, this morning started off with Mass in the Extraordinary Form. I then asked if there was an Old Rite blessing available for poor suffering souls about to visit the dentist. I don't feel this was an unreasonable question to ask, because there is an Old Rite blessing of beer... and I think drinking beer is a far less risky occupation than visiting the dentist... but, apparently, there is no blessing of dental patients.

I had blogged about the appointment, and my fear, and several of you said that you'd pray for me. Thanks for that!

I went off, full of trepidation. The dentist explained what he was going to do. I've had a root canal or two done in the past, and he encouragingly told me that this was a much bigger tooth, and so it would be a much worse experience. The only reason I didn't run out of the surgery right then and there was that I was horizontal and he already had a needle in my gum...

He drilled quite a bit. Then hummed and hawed. He stopped, looking puzzled. Then he shoved more instruments in my mouth...

and finally he admitted that, surprisingly, the nerve didn't seem to be exposed. He'd cleaned out the rest of the tooth and put a temporary filling in, but that, if I survived the next two weeks without any pain, I wouldn't need a root canal filling after all!

The power of prayer, perhaps...?

Just For Karen...

... and also because I need to distract myself while awaiting my doom in the dentist's chair! Karen playfully asked me the following question...

"If you should pass from our presence, what picture of you shall we use for your saint's card, should you be so elevated, and of what do you want to be patroness?"

(I took the liberty of tidying up the grammar!)

My answer: The picture would have to be my blog profile picture: the back of my mantilla-draped head. As to patronage, I think I'd probably be invoked by hairdressers (especially before a permanent colour was applied), people who need to wake up on time (and have a tendency to oversleep) and cat-lovers!

I thought this was rather a good subject for a meme (and a blessedly short one at that!) so, I'll tag Karen (obviously), Fr. Tim (if he bothers to check the blogs before he goes off on holiday), Mark, Fr. Ray, Paulinus, Ttony and Leutgeb.

Put a note in the combox to say you're done, and tag 7 people. And anyone else who wants to play, feel free!

OK... Too Much Serious Stuff...

What with toothache, the Mahoneyfest and ICEL, I need cheering up! Luckily, Adrienne was on hand to find the funny cat posters!

Some of my favourites:







You can find more cat pictures via the link.

Say a prayer for me Monday morning. There's an early Mass at the parish (7:00 am - *whimper*) then time for a cup of tea before heading off to see the dentist (*double whimper*) This time there WILL be drilling... I guess I won't need any help meditating on the Four Last Things...

Copyright...

ICEL are dragging their feet with regard to making the new translation of Mass texts available because of copyright "issues." They claim that this is to protect the integrity of the texts. Rubbish. I heard that it was precisely to avoid copyright issues that composers mucked about with many of the words of the Mass, and that is the reason that we have such ghastly versions of the Gloria and Sanctus, etc. etc...

But Jeffrey Tucker of NLM fame informed ICEL that he could get ten or so professional musicians to compose musical settings of the Mass and make them freely available on the web... provided they wouldn't be accused of infringing copyright. However, it looks as though ICEL aren't at all keen to make use of this generous offer...

The Pastor in Valle thinks he might be being overly cynical: he suspects that "approved" musicians and liturgists have been in possession of the texts for some time, and that they are being given first bite of the cherry with regard to getting their Mass settings published (and, presumably, copyrighted to the hilt!)

Sadly, this sounds like an all too likely scenario... why else would one turn down the offer of free, uncopyrighted musical settings for Mass?

Cardinal Arinze On Liturgical Dance...

...why is it that Tabletista liberal types always want to have bongo drums and liturgical dance, and claim that this is more "inclusive" because dance as worship is the culture of Africa and Asia?

In my experience, some of the more respectful, reverent, and traditionally minded people I have encountered are African or Asian. They can appreciate the beauty of liturgical vestments, Latin and plainchant just as well as us Western types. And Western church acoustics are not suited to bongo drums, however reverently they're played! Western churches are not suitably adapted for dance either...

Cardinal Arinze sets the record straight: the graceful movements of both African and Asian peoples is part of worship, and is an expression of joy... it is NOT "dance," and the Latin Rite should have no truck with so-called liturgical dance during the celebration of Mass and the Sacraments. Definitive answer. End of.



The bit about dance starts at 3:18

"Dance is not known in the Latin Rite of the Mass... Our Congregation has considered it for years... the directive we give from our Congregation is this: in the strict Liturgy, that means the Mass, the sacraments, Europe and America should not talk of Liturgical Dance at all..."

This Is What Happens...

...when you forget that Liturgy is the official worship of the Church, and is given to us by God. It is not something we "do" for God, it all comes from Him.

There are rubrics for a reason. The Mass is the supreme prayer: adoration, contrition, thanksgiving, supplication, and this is offered on our behalf by Christ. He is the mediator through whom our prayer becomes acceptable. The priest is in persona Christi.

At least, that's what should happen.

And when you forget that, when you think that Liturgy is really what makes us feel good, inducing soft, warm fuzzies in everyone, then you get this sort of cringe-making spectacle... men in pyjamas walking through the congregation with large incense-filled woks held aloft, (whom, exactly, are they incensing, and why?) and women in tight tops and flowing skirts doing "meaningful" stretching exercises for no discernible reason. There also seems to be a great deal of unexplained banner waving... at one point I thought they were waving giant feathers, and I wondered what sort of hormones they'd been feeding the chickens...



Twitch of the mantilla to Fr. Ray Blake... when I stop feeling queasy, I might be able to forgive him.

Feast Of The Assumption

I love this Feast of Our Lady... it's one that "sorts the men from the boys" as far as Catholic teaching goes... as the most common objection of Protestants is that "it isn't Scriptural" !

I love Scott Hahn's comment. If you could make your mother perfect, if you had the power to do that, well, wouldn't you make her the best she could be? Totally sinless? Completely perfect?

Well, Jesus is God. He can do exactly that. And so he did...

On a more mundane note, I survived this evening! There were three of us to sing the propers for the Mass of the Assumption this evening... we used the Rossini propers, as there wasn't enough time to learn the full motets from the Graduale Romanum. Apparently, we sounded ok!

Fear...

I am terrified of dentists.

This is a fact which completely confuses my family... they know my fascination with all things medical, the fact that I've been conscious during the last few major leg operations I had (I react very badly to general anaesthesia) - and that I wanted to watch what they were doing... I have cheerfully observed surgeons cutting suspect lumps from my body (the smell of cauterised human flesh is quite unique) and I have no problem with injections...

...until I see a dentist. Then I am reduced to a quivering wreck. I particularly hate the injections into the gum... but I can't possibly have treatment without the local anaesthetic.

I was so frightened on one occasion, I bit the dentist. I maintain that it was his fault... he didn't move his fingers fast enough!

As a result, my mouth is a bit of a mess. I only go to the dentist when I have no alternative, when the pain of toothache overcomes the fear of the chair. So I always need treatment, which is usually complicated and, well, painful and unpleasant... which reinforces the fear...

Anyway, I lost a filling or two many months ago. By diligent brushing of the teeth, I managed to stave off the inevitable for quite some time, but the holes got bigger, and there are gaps between the remaining fillings and my teeth... and it hurts. I've put up with fairly constant toothache for about a week, but last night I couldn't sleep and my whole head was throbbing.

I did an internet search for a dentist near me, and rang round to see if I could be slotted in as an emergency case. I judge a dentist by the quality of their receptionist - I'm in no fit state to judge anything once I'm in the chair - and I picked a dentist close to me whose receptionist sounded soothing and reassuring. The only appointment slot was for 2:45pm...

...and may God have mercy on my soul... *whimper*

UPDATE: I went. The dentist tapped a few teeth. Then he prescribed antibiotics and painkillers. And I have to go back for possible root canal work. I want to die... preferably before Monday...

Baby Faith

After the highly enjoyable Faith Summer Session, I returned to Woldingham School this week for round 2: the Faith Summer Break, affectionately referred to as "Baby Faith."

Baby Faith, as its name suggests, caters for a younger clientele than the Summer Session: the children are between 11 and 15 years old. The format is pretty similar, though there are more activities planned for each day. It's a pretty gruelling experience for the helpers (it's residential... and you try persuading 43 excited youngsters that they really would rather go to sleep than run riot through the dormitories having midnight feasts and pillow fights!)

I was wary of taking photographs, because of the age of the youngsters - probably unnecessarily so, but I preferred to be cautious. However, these three reprobates insisted that I blog about them!

The chap on the left is Joe Kelly - an RE teacher. He managed to hold the attention of 43 youngsters before and after Mass, as he explained why the Mass was so special and such a vital part of the life of any Catholic who wished to take their faith seriously. The kids were completely captivated. He also led them in praying the Rosary during the time for Confessions - not only were the children totally engaged, but he even coped with the constant movement of helpers and children as they were being shepherded into Confession. Pretty amazing stuff... I wish I had that sort of magnetism!

Dr. Miles Leeson is the shifty looking individual on the right... not only had he given up a week to help with Baby Faith, but he had had an interview for a lectureship the previous week, and was therefore still waiting to hear from the University. He was remarkably phlegmatic - I'd have been phoning home every day to see if any post had arrived! Anyway, I keep waiting for the comments correcting my spelling, punctuation and grammar...

Finally, in the middle is Dermott O'Gorman, whose father is responsible for the Faith website (I think he still does it!) Dermott is about to go off to Valladolid for his first year of seminary. His brother Matt (to be honest, I don't know which one is the eldest) has gone out to the Venerable English College, Rome, also to start training for the priesthood. I think both brothers went to the John Fisher School, Purley, which is where the Faith Movement was started.

As an aside, the number of priestly vocations inspired by contact with the Faith Movement is amazing - have a look at the number of priests and seminarians in the photos on Fr. Tim's post. I have been privileged to become friends with very many of them: fine young men, all of them! It is very heartening to see... and it contrasts starkly with the prevailing view in Tabletista country: that we need to prepare for a Church with fewer priests. No, we don't. We need to pray for vocations and preach about vocations and encourage young men to think about vocations to the priesthood. It is noticeable that the Mass celebrated by Faith priests is always reverent and prayerful, and there's none of the mucking about with the rubrics which I decried in my last post, and no focussing on the personality of the priest, either. It's always very clear that the Mass is about Jesus Christ!

I didn't manage to get many other photos, but this one shows Sister Andrea of the Sisters of the Gospel of Life, a new religious order founded in Glasgow which gives practical and spiritual help to mothers in crisis pregnancies. Both Sister Andrea and Sister Roseann were encouraged and supported in their vocation by their contact with the Faith Movement. You can read more about the Order and their work by going to their blog... In case you're wondering, the priest is Fr. Chris Findlay-Wilson, who brought a minibus-load of children all the way from Cornwall. Hopefully they've arrived home by now!

Silence Is Golden...

...at least, that's what I suspect the majority of my readers will conclude, once I get back into the swing of things blog-wise!

On a more serious note, I actually want to blog about the place of silence at Mass.

I have only been attending the Extraordinary Form of Mass for a relatively short period. I went to a High Mass at St. Bede's about ten years ago, although I had no real idea what was going on: I was invited by a member of the choir, and so was with them for most of it... and the only thing I recall from the experience was wondering when the Mass was going to begin, and then discovering that we'd reached the Gospel! The choir had been singing continuously, as they do at a Solemn High Mass, and I'd been waiting for them to stop so that the priest could make the sign of the cross...

I also gathered that this "Old" Mass was something frowned upon by the majority of Catholics, and so it was spoken about in very circumspect tones "among friends." It wasn't forbidden, but one didn't really advertise it. As a result, I wasn't too keen: I hadn't been long back within the fold, and I didn't fancy the idea of becoming involved with a clique... and a slightly frowned-upon clique at that!

I eventually ended up as a parishioner at Blackfen, where Fr. Tim Finigan is Parish Priest. One of his parishioners had requested that her Requiem Mass be celebrated in the Extraordinary Form, and, after agreeing to this, Fr. Tim got to grips with the rubrics. He then switched to praying the TLM whenever he had a private Mass (private as in "not the usual Parish Mass.")

I would occasionally be able to attend these private Masses if they were before or after school, and so I experienced Low Mass. I loved the silences, the very careful movements which were laid down in the rubrics, the feeling that this was the Mass celebrated for centuries, and the Mass with which many of the Martyrs would have been familiar.

I joined the Latin Mass Society (alas, lack of organisation meant that my subscription soon lapsed, and I kept forgetting to renew it!) and bought myself a St. Andrew's Missal... and that's when I got very angry. I suddenly realised how very poor the translations of many of the prayers of the Mass were, and how much ICEL had dumbed down the Novus Ordo. I had bought into the legend that, pre-Vatican II, everyone had failed to understand the Latin, and had just sat in silence and ignorance while the priest and server "got on with it." Here, in my hands, I had proof that this was far from the case.

My St. Andrew's Missal was beautiful. The prayers were side-by-side in Latin and English, and so I could follow the Mass word-for-word if I wished. But there was so much more: the major feasts had short essays, descriptions of various stationed churches in Rome, and doctrinal, historical and liturgical notes... pages and pages of the stuff. A veritable catechism in itself! The Novus Ordo Missal was pretty small beer by comparison...

I found myself being drawn in by the TLM, and I gradually discovered the beauty of silence. It took a while before I realised that I didn't need to follow every word of the Mass as it was spoken - that, instead, I could read the readings and prayers beforehand as preparation, and then, during the Mass, just reflect on what I had read. Or pray the rosary. Or just watch the actions at the altar. Or just bring myself and my worries to God and sit there while the priest, in persona Christi, interceded for the rest of us, and offered the supreme Sacrifice.

The silent Canon is awesome. Whichever method of praying the Mass I adopted, each time I found myself holding my breath during the Consecration, almost as if I might disturb the descent of Jesus to the altar... and I'd heave a huge sigh after the second genuflection. And it seems that I'm not the only one to react this way... demonstrated by comments made on Fr. Tim's blog, first by Fr. Seán Coyle:

"It was the communal coughing that was a release of the tension among people who knew they were present at something truly awesome."

and then by David:

"I refer to the coughing and shuffling which immediately followed the elevations. Nothing could have better highlighted the riveting attention, prolonged ever so slightly by the pause before the last bell as the pall was replaced on the chalice."

I still attend the Novus Ordo Mass. I understand that there are some adherents to the TLM who consider the Novus Ordo invalid. This is complete nonsense: if the words of Consecration are spoken with the right intention by a validly ordained priest, then we have the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Our Lord Jesus Christ made present on the altar. And so I wear my mantilla at Novus Ordo Masses as well as at the TLM.

But, given a free choice in the matter, I prefer to attend Mass in the Extraordinary Form. I have come to appreciate the value of silence, something sorely missing from the Novus Ordo... oh, a priest might include a period of silence, but it's entirely at his whim. There's no telling when it might occur, or how long it will go on for.

And then there are the Novus Ordo Masses (like one I attended recently) where there is no silence allowed at all: where the priest insists on talking to "explain" everything. "Now we are going to tell God how sorry we are..." "Now we are going to bring up the gifts of bread and wine"... and worst of all, immediately after the Consecration of the Host, at the Elevation: "Now we say together, 'My Lord and my God'..."

(Mind you, I should have realised this was on the cards when the priest introduced the Mass by telling everyone present that they needed to focus... "First, focus on me... then, focus on the readers... and then focus on Jesus..." I suppose I should be grateful that Jesus got a mention... At least that type of Mass is a rare experience for me!)

In the TLM, the "silences" are actually periods when the priest is praying... and you get to know how long a period of silence is (basically, it ends when the prayers do!) And, in that silence, you can let God touch your heart.

Silence isn't really golden. It's far, far more precious than that!

Blogging Suspended...

I'm going to be back in the communications Bermuda Triangle which is Woldingham School for the next few days - it's "Baby Faith" this week, and I was crazy enough to say that I'd be able to help....

Oh dear Lord, what have I done...?

Another Interview With Fathers Z & T...

Another interview between the two überbloggers, Fr. Z and His Hermeneuticalness, on the recent Merton Conference where priests were learning to celebrate the Extraordinary Form.

The New Translation & Catechesis...

Oh boy. It seems that the new English translation of the Novus Ordo Mass will be available "as early as" 2010. ICEL are really jumping the gun here... I mean, the whole point of the delay in making use of the new translation is to allow us stupid people time to get our heads around the difficult words. Will a whole two years be sufficient for the catechetical materials and training courses to be approved and implemented? I have serious doubts...

The American Bishops' Conference has posted the whole text as a PDF file, but it has "Study Text Only" printed in big letters on each page; no doubt this is just in case anyone should be tempted to study the paper the words are printed on rather than the text...

As a teacher, I want to do my little bit to help. I have a great deal of experience in teaching children strange new words like "photosynthesis" and "chromatography," and so I feel that I am uniquely placed to assist lay people with the return to a more sacred language...

Looking at the Canon of the Mass, I found one immediate change we can get to grips with...

Old translation: "he took the cup." New translation: "he took this precious chalice."

Ok, look at the pictures below.

(1) Cup

(2) Chalice

Now, which word do you think best represents the sacred vessel we use at Mass to hold the Precious Blood? And do you think that two years is long enough to get the hang of this difference?

An Alternative Magisterium... And Another "Exclusive" From The Mulier Fortis!

I mentioned before that Damian Thompson was sitting next to me at the High Mass I attended at Merton College, Oxford. I spoke to him briefly to say how much I enjoyed reading his blog, but forbore to mention that I had a blog of my own: I'm extremely small fry in comparison with the Editor-in-Chief of the Catholic Herald and author of Holy Smoke, one of the Daily Telegraph's blogs. I have, however, been waiting eagerly for his take on the Merton Conference. Thanks to the tireless work of überblogger extraordinaire Fr. Zuhlsdorf, Damian's article on the Conference has been tracked down... somewhat confusingly, it's in the Sunday Times.

It's very interesting. I particularly enjoyed the oblique reference to the snippet of gossip which I was responsible for releasing into the Catholic Blogosphere, namely the discussion by the Bishops of England and Wales at their Low Week meeting on how they should attempt to "rein in" priestly bloggers.

"He [Bishop Malcolm McMahon] also tells Father Tim Finigan, author of the Hermeneutic of Continuity, the most influential of all the conservative blogs, to keep writing. Which is interesting, given that the Bishops’ Conference would dearly like to stop that particular blog."

A further snippet has come to my attention: allegedly, their Lordships are a tad concerned that His Hermeneuticalness is likely to become an "alternative Magisterium."

Heheheheh... Remember, you heard it here first!

Busy, Busy, Busy...

Unusually, I was too tired on Friday to blog about the Faith Summer Session. I like to try and get my blog posts in quickly, especially if His Hermeneuticalness or the South Ashford Priest are at the same event, because otherwise it looks as if I'm just copying them... However, I knew that Saturday was going to be a busy day, and didn't want to risk being tempted to blog past my bedtime.

Saturday was wonderful. It started with a mad dash to the dry-cleaners to get some stuff dropped in, and, after a bit of pleading, they promised to have it ready for me before midday. I then made my way to Mass at Blackfen. The Saturday morning Mass is now always in the Extraordinary Form, and I try not to miss it.

I left earlier than usual, though, so as to get back to the dry-cleaners before they closed (they finish early on Saturdays) and also to give me enough time to primp and fluff! Don't panic... no details about hair or make-up shall be forthcoming.

Then it was off to the Catholic church in Eltham, where the eldest daughter of friends was being married. Natalia looked stunning. Her three younger sisters were bridesmaids - and (unspecified) relatives of Phil (the groom) were also bridesmaids and page boys.

We then made our way round to Natalia's parents' house, where the reception was being held. They had a marquee in the back garden... which had a sort of "tardis" quality to it. I've seen the garden (sans marquee) and I didn't think it was that big. But the marquee seemed to go on forever. There were a couple of trees and bushes in the way, but this wasn't a problem... they were simply incorporated into the marquee, and dressed up with fairy lights. The groundsheet produced a curious illusion - you expected the floor to be flat, and then discovered that you were actually standing on a hillock... as a result, several people were staggering around while holding champagne glasses... at least, that's what they all said...

This worked in my favour: my table was the last to get given the starter - some sort of vegetable and cheese tartlet, and, by the time they reached me, a waiter had fallen foul of the flooring and dropped the last batch. I was asked if I would mind awfully having Parma ham and melon instead... as this was far more to my taste than vegetable tartlet, I was able to reassure the waiter that I didn't mind in the slightest.














I spotted the bride standing surrounded by a bevy of friends, and jokingly accused the groom of having abandoned her already... imagine my horror when, smiling broadly, the "groom" said, "Ummm, actually, I'm Phil's identical twin..." Uh-oh. Time to beat a hasty retreat. I was consoled by the father of the bride, who told me that his brother had made the same mistake... Natalia's uncle had been driving down the road to the house when he spotted Natalia's fiancé walking down the street with his arm around a strange woman. Incensed, he'd ground to a halt and charged out of the car to remonstrate with Phil for such caddish behaviour... only to find that it wasn't Phil at all!

I have to say that portaloos will never be the same for me again. We are not talking about rickety cubicles in which there is barely room to turn around, let alone indulge in a spot of moggy-swinging. These were decidedly up-market portaloos - the ladies' consisted of two washbasins, mirrors, and two cubicles with proper toilet paper on rolls and Monet prints hanging on the walls. I found myself wondering if there was a hotel attached...










I had a wonderful time, and I wish the happy couple every blessing for their life together.

The Ceilidh...

Truthfinder, one of my American readers, left a question on my last post: What's a ceilidh?

Put simply, a ceilidh (pronounced "Kay-lee") is the Gaelic equivalent of the English barn dance, and is very similar to American line dancing. In the ceilidh, people aren't all dancing in rows facing the same way... for some dances you have a partner, while others are danced in groups of eight. Also, (this may apply only to the ceilidh's we have at Faith) there isn't a "caller" during the dances - though there is a brief demonstration by "expert" dancers and a quick run-through for everyone of the steps while someone calls them out... and then, once the music starts, it's a bit of a free-for-all.

Some of the dances, as I've indicated, are danced in groups of eight... The great thing about a ceilidh is that you can just dance with anyone, so you don't get wallflowers abandoned at the side of the room looking wistfully on at the action. Anyone can be asked to dance, without the "loaded" meaning you get at a disco. In fact, it can be quite dangerous trying to watch a ceilidh from the side of a room, as a bunch of people, desperate for another person to make up their set, are likely to press-gang you into joining the fun.

The photos I've shown here are actually from one of the Winter Conferences - as I explained in my last post, my mobile died pretty early on in the proceedings - and these were taken with a much less snazzy phone camera.

Blog Break...

You may have noticed my absence from the blogosphere during the past week. Then again, I could be kidding myself!

I went to the Faith Summer Session, a five-day residential conference organised by the Faith Movement. For quite a few years now, the summer event has been held at Woldingham School, Surrey.

Unfortunately, as Fr. Tim has already noted, Woldingham School is the communications equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle... there are one or two payphones which work with phonecards (no coin-operated phones, as far as I could make out), and that's it. No mobile signals. We say this each year, and each year you find new people who can't quite believe that it is possible to be completely out of range of a phone mast... and you see them wandering around with phones held out as they search for a magic "spot" from which they can phone or text another human being. No Wi-fi. No broadband. I believe that there is a computer made available to the conference organisers (and anyone canny enough to know whom to bribe!) but the connection is worse than useless, and the school's security system blocks sites such as Blogger and Facebook.

It's almost a comfort to realise that the private education system in this country suffers from the same lack of IT support as the state sector...

"But how is it that Fr. Tim managed to blog during the week?" I hear you cry! Hmmphhhh. A very sore point. He sneaked off to the local service station on the M25 and blogged from there. I didn't have my car, so this wasn't an option for me. I didn't have a laptop either, so the car wouldn't have been much use anyway. I did try to check my favourite blogs on my phone when I went to the local pub for lunch, but the signal was still pretty dicey, and then my phone battery ran flat. I had forgotten to pack my charger (I was distracted by my hair crisis!)

The flat battery was more of a problem than you might suppose - it meant that I couldn't get lots of photos as a record of the conference. I did get a few at the beginning. This was the biggest Conference to date, and the chapel was full, which is a sight for sore eyes: all these young people have given up a week of their holiday time to come and discover more about their faith.

There were over 35 priests there for most of the week, nearly all of them young, sprightly and enthusiastic. There were also loads of seminarians present: remember this when next you are told that there is a vocations "crisis" in the Church which means we need to plan for fewer priests. There are plenty of young men who are willing to answer God's call, but if we "plan" for fewer priests, then we forget to make that call heard in the parishes, and so we will get what we plan for!


Twitch of the mantilla to Fr. Tim for the photos of priests and seminarians. I had absented myself from this particular photo-fest, partly because my camera had died, and partly to ensure that I wouldn't be cajoled into appearing in any photos...

There were over 230 participants, and the atmosphere was pretty fantastic. Each day there were talks, time for questions, discussion groups, and the Liturgy of the Church - Mass, Morning Prayer and Compline each day, the opportunity to attend Exposition and Benediction each afternoon, and a Reconciliation Service on one evening; there was also plenty of free time each afternoon, as well as a ceilidh on one night and an "Entertainments Evening" on another. I can't wait for the Winter Conference!

A Busy Morning...

I had to get up disgracefully early this morning. Not early by school-day standards, but I'm supposed to be on holiday... However, the promise of a Mass in the Extraordinary Form (there you go, Joe, don't say I never read your blog!) was too much of a treat to resist!

Fr. Tim's car had a flat battery (he suffered an "honorary" blonde moment, but I shall be magnanimous and wait for him to admit it on his own blog!) so I helped him to get it started again (ie. I opened my car bonnet and then watched while he did the thingy with the jump leads...) Feeling positively inspired, I drove down to Kwik-Fit to get my air conditioning re-gassed.

I was quoted £45 for re-gassing, and an extra £20 for "de-bugging" to remove all nasty, whiffy bacteria. However, I spotted a poster on the front desk which proclaimed a special offer - "£25 for re-gassing (when you spend £50 or more) or £40 re-gassing and de-bugging (no minimum spend applies.)"

Feeling very blonde, I called the mechanic over. I asked why the price was different from my quote. "Ah, yes Madam... but you see, that's a special offer if you spend £50 or more."

I still didn't quite get it, but there was a potential saving of £25, so I pointed out that, if I had the de-bugging as well there was, according to the poster, no minimum spend.

The mechanic checked the poster. He was forced to admit that this was indeed the case.

I decided to make absolutely sure, and so, in my best "I'm a ditsy blonde who doesn't quite understand that 1+1=2" manner, I asked again, "So, it's £45 to have the air conditioning re-gassed, but £40 to have it re-gassed and de-bugged?"

I think the mechanic was feeling blonde at that point... "Yes, Madam, it would seem so..." he admitted.

"Great!" I exclaimed, "I guess I'll take that option!"

I don't really use air conditioning in the car, but any passengers I have seem to need it.

I then happened to drive past my hairdresser. I noticed it was empty. I looked at my watch. It was still early. I shot in and explained my predicament. She looked at my hair. Trying to be diplomatic, she said that she could see it was "very dark" and not at all suitable... later, once the colour had been stripped out and my usual shade of blonde restored, she admitted that, when ash blonde goes wrong, it goes very wrong...

I shall now go off to Woldingham to recover from the emotional turmoil. Blogging resumes Friday, unless I can find a computer!

Hair Today...

I've tried to put up with the dark ash blonde colour. I've tried to offer it up too. But it's really ghastly.

Fr. Tim has tried to be kind. I suspect he saw my cri de coeur on the blog and decided that it was more than his life was worth to comment. But if the colour was really ok, I'm sure he'd have said so. Instead, when I mentioned my dissatisfaction with the result of my last fiasco, he gave the priestly equivalent of a politician's "no comment!" - namely, a shrug of the shoulders and "I really wouldn't know about that sort of thing..."

I do not have time to go to the hairdresser. Tomorrow afternoon, I am off to the Faith Summer Session at Woldingham. For a week. And then I'm helping on the Faith Summer Break at Woldingham. For a week.

I'm not sure I can stand a whole two weeks of being dark ash blonde.

I have some pre-lightener, which should strip off the ash blonde colour. I can then apply a light blonde colour instead. That's the theory...

The reason I haven't done it already is a simple one: I've had some very bad experiences with hair dye. This makes me a little cautious. Kasia has described her hair disasters, but I think I can trump that...

My worst experience was about 7 years ago. I saw a new hair dye preparation which was advertised as an on-off product... it was permanent, but you could remove it with a special chemical when you'd had enough of it.

I suddenly developed the urge to go aubergine.

How the hell do I know why I wanted to go aubergine?

I went aubergine on Saturday evening. By Sunday morning I hated it. I used the chemical "off" switch. It didn't remove all of the aubergine... I was left with a few pinkish tones...

By Sunday afternoon, I had unearthed a packet of my usual ash blonde colour. I decided to apply this in the hopes that it would cover the slight pink tinge.

It didn't.

Instead, my hair went a rather horrible shade of brown. It looked, to me, like a bad case of diarrhoea. I phoned up a good friend, and poured out my woes. Like all good friends, she tried to reassure me. "Don't panic," she soothed, as I was describing how death was preferable to having to go in to teach while my hair was in such a mess (girls can be awfully bitchy!) By this time it was Sunday evening.

"I'm sure that your hair can't really be that bad... it just looks that way to you, the same way that you think a spot stands out a mile when no-one else can see it..."

I protested that my hair really was a mess. So she suggested that I come round for her to give her honest opinion. "If the worst comes to the worst," she said, "there's an all-night chemist near me, and we can figure out what to do."

I drove round to Angela's house and rang the bell. As she opened the door, her smile of greeting faded.

"I'll get my coat."

So, at 10pm, we went to the chemist to see what hair dye options were available. A pre-lightener and a blonde shade were selected. We then went back to Angela's house. I applied the pre-lightener.

To my horror, the hair went a vivid orange colour. Definitely carrotty. Angela declared that she liked it, but as she also had bright orange paint on her walls, I decided that she was biased.

The blonde shade was then applied. The end result was a mousey-blonde. Mousey-blonde with pink, brown and orange patches. I didn't like it, but it was better than either the aubergine-red, the shitty brown or the carrotty-orange.

By the end of the week, I went to a hairdresser and begged him to put it right. It took six months before the last patches of pink tone finally disappeared.

Hmmmmm. Maybe I need to think this through again...

We've got Mass tomorrow at 7am. I'll see how I feel after that...

I Could Kick Myself...

I'll explain the blog title later.

It's been a very busy few days. I haven't had a chance to put up any pictures from the Merton LMS Conference. I will do, and will probably do a YouTube video of them, but I just haven't had the time.

On Friday, I went along to see Newhousenewjob. She's an old friend of mine (pre-blogging), and I wanted to hear all about her recent wedding and see the photos... I love looking at photos, but just looking at photos isn't that entertaining - I want to be talked "through" them... you know, what made everyone look round just at this point, why that person is scowling, where so-and-so is now, etc. etc. I was aghast to discover that it's been a whole year since my last visit.

Anyway, Newhousenewjob appears to be blooming... but she's almost as camera-shy as me, so, no photo.

Today we had the monthly Missa Cantata at Blackfen. Fr. Tim gave an excellent sermon about St. Alphonsus Liguori. Afterwards, a few of us went off to a local pub for lunch. I was delighted to make the acquaintance of James Mawdsley - author of the blog Ecce Mater Tua, and ex-prisoner of conscience. It was a real privilege, and a very great pleasure, to meet him. His enthusiasm for the TLM was also very heartwarming.

I have two regrets. One was to do with Novus Ordo Eurofizz, Real Ale, glass vessels and photographs. James' comment was: "It's lucky you haven't got your camera!" or words to that effect. The look of horror which crossed his face as I gleefully brandished my phone camera made me relent, however. So, no photo.

I should, however, have taken the chance to snap James and Fr. Tim together afterwards. I only realised what an opportunity I'd missed once I was back in the car on the way home. And so, no photo.

Like I said, I could kick myself!

Very, Very Good...

One of the funniest captions I've seen in a while. Fr. Dwight Longenecker provided the photo and Christopher Joseph devised the caption...

"Just for one week, Georg. No one will notice."

Merton Traddy-Fest

Fr. Tim laughingly told me that I should attend the Merton Conference in order to discuss the finer points of liturgical apparel and behaviour for a Traddy Womynpriest...

...and, since I'm currently on holiday, I thought that it might be quite an entertaining way to spend a day out. The alternatives were housework and lesson plans. Pretty much a no-brainer, really!

It was absolutely fantastic. The liturgy was superb, and the singing took my breath away. Lots of bloggers were in evidence... which explains why the Catholic Blogosphere is so quiet at the moment... anyway, I was able to amuse myself with a game of spot-the-blogger...

I was sitting next to Damian Thompson during Mass. Bloggers in choir included Fr. Tim Finigan, Fr. Ray Blake, Fr. John Boyle, Fr. Paul Harrison, Fr. Seán Finnigan, Br. Lawrence Lew and Fr. Guy Nicholls (even though he doesn't blog himself, so many pictures appear on Jackie's blog that it feels as if he does!)

More posts (and photos) tomorrow...

Maybe I Have No Soul...

No, it's ok. I haven't gone all weird and atheistic. I'm referring to my (lack of) artistic sensibilities.

After rearranging my prospective classroom the other day, my friend Angela and I decided to go out for a little drive. She happened to mention that she hadn't seen Ebbsfleet International, and she was intrigued by my description of it. So, off we went. Angela was as bemused as I had been by the architectural design, and both of us were completely flummoxed as to why the grassy areas outside the terminal were arranged in troughs and peaks... a sort of ripple-effect, only bigger. Imagine a lawn with row after row of speed humps (the "sleeping policeman" type) and you get the idea.

Whatever the reasoning behind it, the result is that some poor individual is going to find cutting the grass extremely hard work... and it'll have to be done with a hand mower because you can't get a sit-down one to cope with all the bumps: they're too close together.

We then drove on down to Bluewater. In the entrance foyer below the cinema ticket office (I think it's called the Water Circus, only they've just gone and filled in all the fountains) there is a display area. And at the moment, the display they have up is of the proposals for a new sculpture which is intended, as one person remarked, " to put Ebbsfleet on the map!"

There are five proposed options on display, small models and postcards, and a picture and video simulation of what the installation will look like in situ, and shoppers are being encouraged to make comments on little postcards for each one. Actually, I think some of the comments are of more artistic merit than the sculptures.

The idea is that the chosen sculpture will be twice the size of the Angel of the North. And it will be visible from the A2. This latter point is, in my opinion, rather important...

The most popular option, as far as I can work out, is a horse. A white stallion, to be exact. Now, horses in fields are quite a common sight as one drives down the A2. However, this one will be 50m high, and almost the same height as the electricity pylons beside it. As the computer simulation made clear, this results in a curious visual illusion type effect. Inducing visual illusions related to perspective and distance in drivers along a busy stretch of motorway is probably not the best of ideas.

I speak from experience. This is very close to the spot where I got smashed into by an articulated lorry whose driver didn't quite appreciate the perspectives in his driving mirror...

The least popular option (and thus probably the most likely to win) seems to be a pile of scaffolding. An expensive pile of scaffolding. Oh, I'm sure it's very carefully arranged, and not actually real scaffolding... but it does look rather like a child's Meccano set construction which has been sat on by mistake.

The other three options are an open cube-on-cube building-block arrangement with a laser shining straight up through the top (maybe it's actually a disguised homing beacon for spaceships to land at Ebbsfleet Pan-Gallactic International!), the inside of a large building on top of a hill (all made of concrete) which resembles an abandoned Lego demolition site, and a large Sky satellite dish with a feather in front of it.

Art? Ummm, if you say so...

Another Of My Spectacularly Blonde Moments...

Uh-oh. They do say that the devil makes work for idle hands. I think I've just proved it...

I have posted previously on the things I tend to do to my hair. In the past year or so I have been pretty restrained, and have gone to the same hairdresser most of the time. This has cut down on some of my more hair-raising experiences.

Unfortunately for me, my hairdresser chose to go away on holiday round about the time I was due for my roots to be re-touched. This is more of a problem than it sounds: my hairdresser only works on Wednesdays and Fridays. She also gets booked up pretty early. I couldn't get an appointment for this week - she's busy. Last week, I was busy. Next week I'm on the Faith Summer Session. The week after that, I'm on the Faith Summer Break. The week after that, my roots will look really disgusting, and there's no way I can leave them that long...

So, today being relatively quiet, I thought I would fix the problem myself. I've done it often enough before...

However, being blonde, it would seem that I suffer from a particular type of amnesia, namely "blonde-shade-itis." This results in my forgetting exactly which shade of blonde looks best. I just grabbed a pack of hair dye out of my cupboard, and applied it.

In other words, I forgot "Lesson 1." Having actually blogged about it, it is particularly galling to find I have repeated the mistake!

Tomorrow I shall try damage limitation. The way I'm feeling right now, this may involve hair clippers and a wig.

Classroom Psychology

Yesterday was a good day. I went to a very early (almost indecently early for a holiday) Mass courtesy of His Hermeneuticalness. I then dropped him off at the station as it was en route to school. Yes, you read that correctly... I went to school.

Last (academic) year was my first at my current school, and, as the newbie, I drew the short-straw as far as timetabling and rooming went: most days were characterised by the need for me to move from classroom to classroom every lesson.

This doesn't sound so bad: after all, it's what the students have to do... the difference is, however, that, as the teacher, you have to clear up the classroom once the class is dismissed (you can get the kids to do some of it, but there's always something missed), unplug the laptop, disconnect the interactive whiteboard, switch off the projector, grab your books, notes, register, computer and keys, lock the classroom, go to the new classroom, unlock the door, set up the laptop, switch on the projector and whiteboard, calibrate the whiteboard so that the writing appears where you want it, give out books, download the class register, check to see that the correct practical equipment is where you expected it to be and then settle the class down so that you can start the lesson. This takes time.

Meanwhile, the class demands to know why you are late and asks if there is going to be a practical. You often get a handful of children all suddenly trying to explain why they haven't done their homework, and why, despite it being set a week before, they haven't managed to see you any sooner. And the rest of the class is starting to climb the light fittings... and play with the gas taps. I have occasionally entertained wistful fantasies about telling them NOT to stick bits of metal into the live pin of the electric sockets (on the basis that they will often do exactly what you tell them not to) but I have to banish such thoughts as being unprofessional...

Then, and only then, can you actually start to teach.

I have been very tired for most of the year.

This coming year, as a "reward" for surviving the timetable equivalent of hell, I have been promised that most of my lessons will be in one room. The cloud to my silver lining is the warning that I will be "responsible" for the state of that room.

Now, the physical environment of any classroom has a huge impact on classroom management. The arrangement of the room in question was less than desirable from a teaching point of view: the tables were arranged in such a way that only 20 students could be seated comfortably at desks.

Most classes have considerably more than 20 students. Quite a few have 30. With the desks arranged in a sort of horseshoe, the extra students were dotted around the back of the room, where they were able to block sinks and gas taps with items such as sweet wrappers and chewing gum, secure in the knowledge that the teacher couldn't see them.

The horseshoe arrangement also encouraged noise, as the students could talk to each other across the room. Students are far less inclined to have a conversation with someone if they have to turn around to do so. Students sitting in small groups will still talk, but the noise level is considerably less, and it's easier to control: divide and conquer has always been a useful ploy!

Hence my willingness to go in and play "house" during the Summer. I was joined by a good friend of mine, also a Science teacher, and together we discussed various options. Eventually, I decided on a "five dots-on-dice" arrangement of tables: this allows me room to move round all the tables while students are working, everyone can see the board (and me) without having to turn right around, and no-one is near the sinks, gas taps or electric plug sockets...

I will let you all know how the experiment works out!

Aha ! All Has Been Revealed...

When Cardinal Castrillon Hoyos celebrated a Pontifical High Mass at the throne in Westminster Cathedral, those in the know made a few comments about the lack of buskins. I had no idea what buskins were. His Hermeneuticalness, when challenged, said that they were some sort of stocking put on with the other vestments at a Pontifical High Mass... and he admitted that he'd never seen any, so couldn't describe them...

All has now been revealed! Shawn Tribe of The New Liturgical Movement has posted descriptions of buskins (ordinary and liturgical) and explanations of colour, decoration and manner of wearing them. He's even got photos!

I see that I shall have to work hard as a Womynpriest to educate my brother clerics as to the best way to avoid wrinkled stockings gathering around the ankles...

Sylvester...

A couple of people have asked me how Sylvester is doing. YES ! See, Fr. Tim... some people actually like to read about cats!!

Anyway, most of the corneal sequestrum seems to have sloughed off (yuck... nasty dead eye tissue, gross!) and he doesn't appear to be in any discomfort, though there is still a small, discoloured area on his eye. I'm almost certain that he won't need any further treatment.

In the meantime, Sylvester is doing his best to eat me out of house and home. On school days, he gets fed pretty early and then heads out through the catflap as I head on out through the door. I often muse on how long he actually spends outside: this week I can say "virtually none" ! He has divided his time between eating, popping outside briefly to do the necessaries, grooming, nudging my leg with his head (when he wants feeding or attention), sitting on the arm of the armchair behind me and miaowing plaintively (when he wants feeding or attention) and actually sleeping on the armchair. The latter activity takes up by far the greatest proportion of his time...

Some Of The Recent Additions...

I haven't always had time to draw your attention to my blogroll additions, so, I thought a quick round-up of the most recent ones might be in order...

Roses and Jessamine writes a blog of the same name - one which evokes gently scented eau de toilette. She hails from the same neck of the woods as Fr. Ray. I'd love to know why she chose that particular name!

Benedict Ambrose writes Tremendous Trifles - "yet another Scottish blog" (his description, not mine, I hasten to add!) which contains musings on, well, just about everything.

Australia Incognita is a blog from Down Under; Terra, the author, describes herself as deeply attached to the Traditional Latin Mass... of course, Terra might actually be a "himself" - neither the Blogger profile, nor the Facebook one, offer any clues!

Hearts at Home is a blog written by Penny and Pillarclimber, two homeschoolers from North Carolina.

Saint Louis Catholic is written by Thetimman, who is unclear about why he started blogging, but he has an interesting selection of posts on various snippets of Catholic news.

And finally, the Pious Sodality of Church Ladies held me up as an exemplar of what happens when Church Ladies "go bad" after I expressed my womynpriest vocation. A very entertaining blog.