The British Preoccupation With Weather...

The British are supposed to be totally fixated on the weather. It is a sort of national characteristic, rather as the Germans are thought to be well-organised early-risers and the French are supposed to be onion-selling cyclists. Foreign language lessons in British schools seems to bear this out - the weather conditions seem to feature heavily in all the language textbooks I've ever seen during cover lessons...

Several years ago I decided that the British preoccupation with weather resulted from the fact that we had so much of it. As an island with a temperate climate, one expects to have seasons. However, we do seem to be rather prone to having four seasons' worth of weather in the space of a week, and occasionally we get the lot in just one day. Speculation on the weather conditions therefore can occur at several points during the day, and the conclusions will not necessarily be the same in the afternoon as they were in the morning.

Given the vagaries of the British weather, you'd think we could cope with pretty much anything nature decided to throw at us, outside anything actually cataclysmic. This is far from being the case. Whatever the weather conditions, you can guarantee the British will be taken by surprise.

Snow is always a good one. It snows here most years, round about winter time, for about a week. It has been known to snow as late as April or as early as November, When the snow actually falls is immaterial, as is the length of time the weather forecasters have been warning of its arrival. For the week that the snow falls, the country grinds to a halt. The explanations are varied, but generally boil down to "nothing worked because it was the wrong type of snow."

I said we had seasons. Britain has a lot of trees, and in Autumn all the deciduous trees shed their leaves. This is a fascinating process, and it is also predictable. However, the rail network has more than once ground to a halt because of "leaves on the lines." Not whole trees, mind you. Just some wet leaves. The wrong type of leaves, you understand...

We do get some good weather. But as soon as the sun shines for more than a week, we hit problems. At the moment, we have drought warnings all over the south of England. There is a hosepipe ban in force. The fact that this is turning into the wettest April for goodness knows how long (with flood warnings being issued left, right and centre) is immaterial - it is, apparently, the wrong type of rain...

We are all guilty of using too much water, according to the water companies, and we have depleted the reservoirs and the water table by our indiscriminate washing of ourselves, our clothes and our cars. We also waste far too much on our gardens. The amount of water lost through the water companies' neglect of leaky pipe networks is totally negligible... according to the water companies, that is.

I'm the first person to admit that my knowledge of Geography is sketchy. However, last time I looked at a map, Britain was an island nation. Islands are, by definition, surrounded by large quantities of wet stuff. Surely it is not beyond the wit of Man to desalinate some of the stuff and stick it in some reservoirs? Or is that too simple a proposition?

In the meantime, I have two disgruntled Monsignori staring out of the catflap, trying to avoid looking like this...

Existentialist Angst...

The inimitable Fr. Z sent me a couple of YouTube video links which he thought might amuse me. Henri the cat has a hard life, and ponders the meaning of his existence...

There is also a sequel...

The look of withering contempt given by Henri to the camera is one I see on the face of Monsignor Furretti quite regularly. Maybe it is something to do with being long-haired? Certainly it is not an expression I have observed on Monsignor Miaowrini's face... she is much more likely to be "begging for cheeseburgers" - or rather, for smoked salmon...

From the sublime to the ridiculous. His Hermeneuticalness has been poaching on my territory, posting a picture of a "cat sandwich" - cats with bread on their heads being, apparently, the latest internet craze. I can't see either of the Monsignori being keen on that one.

I wouldn't dream of subjecting my two kitties to such indignities. And anyway, a slice of wholemeal bread is remarkably difficult to balance on a cat's head...

A Celebration Of St. George

We celebrated the Feast of St. George in style at Blackfen. I didn't take photos during Mass as I was singing.

One of the senior servers decided to take the MC's strictures on long black socks to heart, and opted to get his from Gammarelli's in Rome...

After the Missa Cantata at Blackfen, a few of us decided to go for a few drinks at a local hostelry, where we found several St. Georges outnumbering a solitary dragon.

Snacks of Yorkshire puddings with roast beef were brought round for our delectation... sadly we appeared to have missed the Morris Dancers...

St. George & That Dragon...

Someone asked me earlier today whether there really was a dragon slayed by St. George. The implication was that, since church statues always depict St. George with a dragon, then, if the dragon did not really exist, then neither did St. George.

Aha! cries the sceptic: Another myth of the medieval church debunked... and so one can't believe anything that the Church says about saints and miracles...

First of all, I would urge caution about debunking medieval myths. Like the one about St. Peter being buried under St. Peter's in Rome... which turned out to be true... or the one about St. Paul being buried in St. Paul outside the walls... which turned out to be true...

Secondly, there is always the possibility that the dragon is a metaphor - a picturesque depiction of sin or the devil - and it is quite possible that St. George overcame something of that sort, no?

Whatever. The truth of the matter is that, whether it was a real dragon or only a metaphorical one, I don't actually care. St. George is a saint of the Church, and the patron saint of the country in which I was born and in which I live... and tomorrow is his feast day. Personally I think it ought to be a Bank Holiday, but no doubt some Governmental bean-counters would object to "yet another" Bank Holiday on economic grounds, ignoring the fact that working more days for longer hours doesn't actually mean one is more productive.

I shall at least have the opportunity to go to Mass for the feast day...

It's Not A Numbers Game...

I know, I know. The stats are unimportant. I would still blog even if no-one read what I wrote, simply because it means that I can voice my opinions, and not impose them on anyone else. After all, I don't force people to read my blog. They can always go elsewhere if they don't like my opinions.

But it is encouraging to think that people are actually interested enough to click on a link to see what I'm up to. My sporadic posting has lost me rather a lot of readers, but around 250 people a day have stuck with me despite it all, and when I actually post something, the numbers go up.

I'm a very small-time blogger. Nowhere near, for example, either His Hermeneuticalness, the lovely Fr. Blake or the incomparable Fr. Z. But I don't have any official role in the Church - and my opinions are just my own, without any authority behind them, so it's quite touching to find out that people want to read what I write. Admittedly I might be getting more readers for the kitty updates than for my views on religious matters.

With that in mind, I've just noticed that I've passed the half a million visits milestone - it took six years. I'm determined to have my Million Hits party well before 2018. Oh, and Zephyrinus... you now owe me a bottle of something bubbly (and washing-up liquid doesn't count!)

And yes, I know I said that stats are unimportant. But I took a perverse pleasure in noting that, on Twitter at least, I have more followers than the editor of The Suppository (aka The Bitter Pill)...

I tweet as @MulierFortis

Requiem For Fr. Pyle...

One of the customs which I have only encountered since attending the Extraordinary Form of Mass is that of having a full Requiem Mass with Absolutions at the Catafalque.

I have been at Novus Ordo Masses which have been offered for the intentions of the deceased person, of course, but in these it seems that the intention is "tacked on" to the Mass being offered anyway. The readings are those of the day, saints and seasons are commemorated as normal - the only thing that tells you that we're praying for a dead person's soul is the Mass intention printed in the bulletin or announced by the priest.

Obviously the actual funeral Mass is for the deceased person's soul... though sometimes there is far too much emphasis on celebrating the person's life, and not enough recognition that the person concerned is now undergoing the purification of Purgatory and is in desperate need of our prayers. I'm not being morbid in this reflection - just practical. St. Bernadette was concerned that people would be so busy thinking her a saint that they would forget to offer prayers for her soul... and she would be "cooking" in Purgatory. If such a great saint expected Purgatory, the rest of us really should prepare to go there too!

There is something very moving about having a Requiem Mass in the Extraordinary Form, especially on a person's anniversary. Today was the anniversary of the death of Fr. Tony Pyle, the previous Parish Priest at Our Lady of the Rosary, Blackfen, and so we had a Missa Cantata. It was beautiful. Yes, I know Mass is always beautiful... but sometimes it hits you more than at other times.

I wonder how many parishes get to have Mass regularly for the souls of former parish priests? We can take our priests for granted, I think, expecting them to be there for us whenever we want the Sacraments, to offer the Sacrifice of the Mass on our behalf... and perhaps we need to pray more for them in return. How often have you prayed for the priest who baptised you? Or the one who heard your first Confession? I know I hardly give them a passing thought, but without them, I wouldn't be here now...

Just something to ponder...

If you're interested, a few more photos from the Requiem can be found on my Flickr page.

Seven Years On...

It's now the seventh anniversary of the Holy Father's election to the throne of St. Peter. As you can see from the photo above, this was not a popular result...

I heard a few reports (from the more liberal wing of the Church) that the Pope was so old, he couldn't possibly last long, he was just a "caretaker" until they could get a "better" candidate. Seven years on, I just want to say these words to the naysayers - "Summorum Pontificum, Universae Ecclesiae, corrected ICEL translation, Ordinariate and SSPX!"

Well, actually I also want to add "Hah! So there!"

Not that I'm being triumphalistic or anything...

But I do sincerely hope we get to sing a few verses of "God bless our Pope" after Benediction this evening.

I wasn't blogging when the Pope was elected, but I have posted my memories of the event - last year, the year before (the fifth anniversary) and the third anniversary. It's worth going back and having a look to read the comments - which is why I'm not simply cut-and-pasting!

If you didn't get a chance to share your memories before, do feel free to comment this time around!

God bless our Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI... and ad multos annos!

Thuribles At Dawn...

Oh dear. The challenge has been issued. The inimitable Fr. Z has suggested that His Hermeneuticalness is notoriously bad at incensation, because of the need for fire drills among the servers. His Hermeneuticalness has countered by asking Fr. Z to choose his weapons... himself opting for a Heckler & Koch MP5.

...I'd have thought an MP3 player would be better for reproducing the clinking sound, but then I'm just a blonde girly so I've probably got the wrong end of the stick...

However, I think that Fr. Z has failed to consider the need to train servers in fire-fighting technique. Some of those servers wield a mean thurible. Ever wondered why we don't have a carpet on the sanctuary at Blackfen...?

I can confirm that Fr. Tim has, on occasion, had to step back rather sharply to avoid concussion.

It might also be noted that Fr. Z is being just a tad disingenuous. He has had first-hand experience of His Hermeneuticalness' techniques with the thurible...

...as well as demonstrating his own proficiency...

...and, as my photographic evidence confirms, Fr. Z resisted the impulse to "take out" His Hermeneuticalness despite the obvious opportunity offered to the deacon at High Mass. Sadly, I cannot recall whether there was much in the way of clinking. Next time I shall have to video proceedings!

Saturday Sunshine...

To add injury to insult, I thwacked my little toe on the edge of a door yesterday evening, just to put the lid on my "Friday the Thirteenth" woes, and it has really swelled up.

However, the sun was shining this morning, and we had our regular Missa Cantata - a week late because there wasn't any Mass last Saturday morning - and just before it began, I got a phone call to say that my car had been fixed, and would be waiting for me to collect when I was ready.

Apparently it wasn't the thermostat which was the problem. Some pipe or other was leaking, so the water wasn't getting hot enough to get the thermostat to open the valve so the water could circulate and cool the engine down... I'm not really too clear on the details... whatever the problem was, it's fixed now, and I have my car back, for which I am profoundly grateful.

Friday the Thirteenth...

I'm sulking.

Friday the Thirteenth has so far been marked by the fact that I am without my beloved car, just before I am due to return to work, and so have to endure public transport...

...and also by the fact that, as it's Friday, I can't even indulge in a consoling bacon sandwich.

I can't. I checked with the PP after Mass.

Trouble Again...

*sigh*

No. I didn't forget the oil. Nor did I forget the water. And there wasn't actually any steam issuing from the engine... the picture is just a bit of poetic license.

However, I thought that there was going to be steam. And maybe even an explosion. The car was making some very unusual noises, and it hasn't ever made them before...

It started like this... I have learned to keep a close eye on the temperature gauge on my dashboard (the car one, not the Blogger one!) The indicator is normally bang on the centre, where there is a little thermometer symbol - helpful for blondes such as myself. If it goes slightly over the symbol, I top up the water in the radiator... it generally doesn't need much, and I've only had to do it a couple of times since my last major mistake.

I went to Bluewater this afternoon. On my way home, I noticed that the indicator was ever so slightly over the middle. I left the car to cool down, and then, a couple of hours later, checked the water and the oil. Both seemed to be fine, though there was rather a lot of water in the overflow container (you remember the overflow container? The one everyone thought was the windscreen wash bottle?) I emptied some of the excess from the overflow, topped up the radiator and proceeded to drive to church for Benediction.

The indicator seemed to stay really low for much longer than usual, but then suddenly it started to race up. It went way over the middle and crept relentlessly towards the red. With about a centimetre to go till the indicator hit red, I realised that there was this loud bubbling sound coming from the engine, and I was convinced that the thing was going to explode. I pulled over, turned off the engine and decided to walk the rest of the way to church...

I did consider calling my breakdown service, but I would have missed Benediction. Added to which, there weren't any garages open by that time. And I figured that nothing could get fixed in the dark anyway.

Several men have listened, smiled pityingly at the terrified blonde wreck I had become, reassured me that the car wouldn't actually have exploded, and have said that it sounds like the thermostat valve thingy in the radiator has gone. I shall investigate tomorrow... when I've calmed down just a bit... Unfortunately, I can't quite bring myself to believe that it will be quite so simple.

Say a prayer that it won't prove to be too expensive...

The Easter Vigil At Blackfen...

The Easter Vigil is always a very beautiful service. There is something very special about coming into the dark church and gradually watching it light up with more and more candles lit from the Paschal candle. Having the readings from the Old Testament by candlelight is a bit of a challenge for the readers... But then, at the Gloria, the bells which have been silent since Maundy Thursday ring out, and the organ starts up, and the first Mass of Easter starts.

There is something tremendously encouraging about the welcoming of new members into the Church - this year we had two baptisms and one reception...

I love the Vigil. There is a building excitement, a real sense of anticipation... in fact, I think that if I were to go straight from Good Friday to Easter Sunday, without the Vigil, I'd feel cheated... not least because I'd have to wait even longer to get stuck in to the Easter Eggs!

I've taken a few more photos, which you can see on Flickr...

Good Friday...

We celebrate the Afternoon Liturgical Action of the Passion on Good Friday in the Ordinary Form at Blackfen. I was tempted to go to St. Bede's, Clapham Park for the Extraordinary Form liturgy, but for the Triduum I sort of feel that I should stay in my own parish. After all, it's all done very well at Blackfen - there are none of the liturgical abuses or horror-stories which have been recounted by friends located elsewhere!

Nevertheless, the Good Friday liturgy doesn't have many photogenic moments. I only uploaded four photos to Flickr this year. I did find the liturgy very moving, and was in tears after venerating the Cross, but there wasn't much to see.

You can see the photos I did upload on Flickr.

Photos From Maundy Thursday...

Just a few days later than planned - I'm slowly catching up with myself...

We were extremely fortunate to be able to have Solemn High Mass in the Extraordinary Form for Maundy Thursday. The music was beautifully sung by our choir - to say that the absence of the organ was really noticeable could be taken the wrong way, but what I actually mean is that the contrast struck me quite forcibly this year.

At what felt like the last minute, I was given the task of finding men for the Mandatum - the washing of feet - and was almost despairing, when, with less than ten minutes to go, I had only succeeded in getting one volunteer. Fortunately, with much arm-twisting and pleading, I managed to get another seven before the Mass started, and four of the servers were press-ganged to make up the full number. The reluctance of men to volunteer for the Mandatum was almost comical - I had no idea so many people had foot problems. It is not, however, without biblical precedent: think about how reluctant St. Peter was to have his feet washed...

One elderly man seemed quite touched by the request - he told me that he'd never been asked before, in 70 years of attending church, and thanked me profusely, though he still refused...

I've put up a selection of photos on my Flickr page.

Bullying & Blackmail...

Monsignor Furretti is, at the moment, top cat. It seems to be a pretty fluid arrangement - sometimes one appears to be in the ascendant, then the other. Anyway, Furretti has been monopolising my bed, the top of the wardrobe, and the cat beds. Miaowrini has had to try and find herself other spots; however, each time she identifies somewhere comfortable, Furretti decides that she wants it. The exception is when I'm in bed - Furretti likes the attention, and so sleeps with me. So far, the only spot Miaowrini has been unchallenged is on the chair by my computer... and given that Furretti has ousted her from all the other spots, I haven't got the heart to move her.

I've found that I'm actually checking to see if the cat is out so that I can sit down at my computer... If she's already curled up on the chair, I leave her alone (apart from tickling her on the tummy as I pass - she likes that!) Today, I managed to get to the chair first, so she had to slum it on the sofa...

Meanwhile, Monsignor Furretti has been ill. I noticed her drooling a lot on Thursday, and on Good Friday morning found that the spot she had been sleeping on was pretty wet. She felt a bit thinner than usual, and her fur suddenly looked scraggy, as if she hadn't been grooming herself. I also noticed that, when I fed her a couple of her absolute-favourite-go-mad-for-cat-treats, she spent rather a lot of time licking her chops.

I was rather worried, and phoned a local vet. The nurse reassured me, and advised me to leave it another day - not least because the basic examination fee, not including treatment, was pretty astronomical. Nevertheless, given that Furretti was obviously hungry, but off her food at the same time (a weird combination, I know) I decided to go to the local supermarket after Stations to get some smoked salmon. It's the feline equivalent of chicken soup, in my opinion, and I was worried. I thought that I could be forgiven for going shopping on Good Friday since it was for the cat, and not for myself...

By the time I got home, Furretti was out. I called her name through the catflap, and, after a brief delay (ten minutes during which I had visions of a dead or dying cat under a bush) she came in, closely followed by Miaowrini. I distracted Miaowrini with a large piece of salmon, and proceeded to feed Furretti her share in tiny slivers. They disappeared pretty quickly, and Furretti brightened up considerably. I have to say that, not having eaten anything myself, the feeding of smoked salmon to two cats proved to be quite an arduous penance.

When I got back home after the Afternoon Liturgical Action of the Passion, Furretti had obviously been grooming herself, she looked a lot less scraggy, and she even managed to eat some cat biscuits. She had a good night, and didn't drool as far as I could see, and so I decided to forego the trauma of the vet...

When I got home after the Vigil this evening, Miaowrini was looking a little sorry for herself. There was evidence that she had thrown up a furball, but it looked as though she'd lost dinner too. Out came the rest of the smoked salmon, and I found myself feeding small slivers to the two cats, one after the other. Much purring and guzzling of salmon ensued. Both cats looked rather pleased with themselves, and have now gone out of the catflap.

It occurred to me that I'm being played for a mug...

Palm Sunday At Blackfen...

We were extremely fortunate to be able to have a Solemn High Mass for Palm Sunday. The Palm Sunday liturgy isn't for the faint-hearted, though - with the blessing of palms, the outdoor procession and the chanting of the St. Matthew Passion it is just over two and a half hours long. It's such an amazing visual and aural feast that it doesn't feel like it's that long, but it does require some advance planning for lunch...

The photos are just a little late in getting uploaded - actually, I did upload them a few days ago, but needed the Senior MC to check my descriptions. Using two cameras, one on BST and one on GMT, meant that the photo order got a little muddled. However, you can see a few more over on my Flickr page.

Tenebrae...

It has become something of a custom at Our Lady of the Rosary, Blackfen, to have extra Masses at the start of Holy Week for the benefit of those who are at work and can't attend during the day. The Monday and Tuesday Masses are in the evenings, but the Mass for Spy Wednesday is in the morning (at 7am, as the Gospel is a little on the long side...) so that it is possible to attend Tenebrae on Wednesday evening.

Tenebrae is the service of Matins and Lauds of the Triduum, and a candle is extinguished after each of the psalms, until finally all are out and the lights are turned out. The banging of books represents the earthquake (I think!) But the very last candle is only hidden from view, and it gets shown again at the end.

One year I went to Tenebrae and the last candle had actually been extinguished, which caused a bit of consternation for the MC when the time came for its reinstatement...

Yesterday I decided to make the effort to go to St. Mary Moorfields. As our Senior MC remarked, it seems like a trek to get there, but you realise it was worth it afterwards. The journey itself was simple enough, though finding a parking place in Finsbury Circus proved to be a very suitably penitential exercise - I think I drove around it six times looking for the exit nearest the church - all of the exit streets looked the same and all were named "Finsbury Circus" which didn't help. I had used my mobile phone as sat-nav, and the battery had gone flat as I haven't managed to get an in-car charger yet, though fortunately it got me as far as Finsbury Circus first.

The liturgy at St. Mary Moorfields had been organised by the Latin Mass Society who had arranged for Cantus Magnus to sing the polyphony.

Although the phone camera was out of action, I had my "proper" camera with me as well, and so I recorded a couple of the polyphonic responses sung by the choir. This one is from the third Nocturn of Matins: Gesualdo's Una Hora.

I didn't take many photos, as there isn't much going on around the sanctuary during Tenebrae. This meant I was free to record "Eram quasi agnus innocens" from the second Nocturn, and you can listen to that over on YouTube.

I also recorded the Benedictus - the canticle of Zachariah - at the end of Lauds where the final candle is "extinguished"... and here polyphony alternates with plainsong. I particularly like the contrast - remember that everyone, including members of the congregation, joins in with the plainsong parts, so it's not perfect, but that is its charm.

It was definitely the best way to start the Triduum... Perhaps one year we can celebrate it at Blackfen!

That 40 Days For Life Vigil...

I haven't been blogging very frequently and, although I thought I had mentioned the 40 Days for Life campaign this year, it seems to have slipped by without comment on my blog, which is annoying. I had meant to say something!

Then followed a lot of negative press given to the Vigil, particularly when Bishop Alan Hopes indicated that he would attend in order to lead the Rosary. One comment from the pro-abortion crowd really had me scratching my head in perplexity - apparently "Bishops have no business moralising about abortion..." Actually, they do, that is the main business of a shepherd, to warn the sheep when they are going off in the wrong direction, to protect them...

Not having said anything to that point, I initially decided to stay quiet, especially as I hadn't been there for the "showdown" on Friday, when the counter-demonstration happened. I understand that there was controversy over filming on a previous occasion, which some people had found intimidating. I agree wholeheartedly that filming women going in to the clinics is completely wrong. However, filming the people praying in the vigils has actually been beneficial in the past, to guard against false accusations of intimidatory behaviour. Remember the landlord of the abortion clinic who came out brandishing a chainsaw? In addition, the whipping-up of the anti-Vigil demonstration started well before the cameraman incident, in fact, it started as soon as Bishop Hopes' presence was announced. One lone cameraman filming on one occasion was a convenient excuse, not a cause.

I've spoken to people who were actually present at the Vigil on Friday. One of the most rational accounts I have read is that of Leutgeb over on Bara Brith, and I have a great deal of respect for her common-sense approach to life, so it's her report which carries most weight with me.

But the final thing which made me break silence is the fact that, arousing such vehement responses from the pro-abortion camp, suggests that the 40 Days for Life vigils are having an effect. There wouldn't have been the need to protest against some religious nutcases standing on street corners if that was all they were. Rather inconveniently, the people attending the vigils are just ordinary people, men and women, young and old. In fact, the very violence of the response indicates to me that the truth pro-life message is slowly trickling through, aided by ultrasound images of the unborn child which make it impossible to pretend that abortion is just the removal of an inconvenient blob of tissue.

So, even if mistakes were made (we are merely human, after all), the 40 Days for Life endeavour deserves praise and encouragement for the good which has been achieved so far.

Colour Me Cynical...

As I drove home this evening after Benediction, I noticed a rather long queue at the local petrol station. It was much longer than normal for 9:30pm on a Thursday night, and stretched all the way back to the roundabout, causing quite a bit of disruption to passing traffic.

Obviously people are panicking about fuel shortages if there is a strike by tanker drivers..

This hasn't been helped by Government ministers telling people to keep a full tank and also to store petrol in their garages to help avoid strike disruption.

The effect of such statements on public behaviour is so easy to predict that one can't help but wonder why the Government didn't foresee it. You'd have to be really stupid not to work out that suggesting the possibility of fuel shortages increases the likelihood of panic-buying, wouldn't you?

I'm no fan of the Government but I find it just a little hard to believe that anyone could really be that stupid. Surely at least one civil servant would have made the obvious connection and told someone...

Which then makes you wonder if it wasn't deliberate. Get everyone really riled up, start the panic, see a few petrol stations run out of petrol because of the unusual demand, closed petrol stations fuel (sorry!) the panic and then the general public start screaming at the Government to send in the troops to cross the picket lines. This then undermines the bargaining power of the unions in the future. After all, if it's ok to break this strike, why not the next one?

Incidentally, the price of petrol has gone up even more. It's currently at £1.40 per litre. That's approximately 2.24 US dollars. A litre is 0.26 US gallons. So 1 US gallon of petrol is about 3.79 litres and it costs £5.31 or 8.45 US dollars...

Just saying...

Stational Churches...

In Rome, during Lent, it was traditional to visit a different church for each of the days - each church or chapel was a "Station." Plenary indulgences were attached to such visits, I presume under the usual conditions. The St. Andrew's Daily Missal has some information on each of the Stational Churches.

Zephyrinus (the blogger, not the deceased Pope!) has gone one better - he has combined the information from the Missal with other information and photos gleaned from Wikipedia and other sources - each day during Lent he has put up a post on the stational church associated with that day.

It's absolutely wonderful, so do go and browse...

Belated Thank-Yous...

I've been meaning to say thank you to a few people.

First I was sent a book about St. Luigi Orione, the founder of the Sons of Divine Providence and the Little Missionary Sisters of Charity. I'd never heard of him, and I said so during the Day With Mary. Kevin very kindly hastened to correct my ignorance, and I shall read the book over the Easter holidays.

The next present was from Sister Roseann, who knew of my appreciation of the St. Ninian Tartan - the one designed especially for the Holy Father's visit. I had already managed to get a shawl, but shawls don't really suit my rather more than generous proportions... so Sister Roseann presented me with a scarf. The weather has been unseasonably warm ever since, but I shall wear it at the first hint of a cold snap. Probably some time in June... or July... (British weather being what it is...) Mind you, I shall have to prise Monsignor Furretti off it first. She has decided that it's a very nice comfortable tartan...

One of my Confirmation candidates presented me with a lovely little "handbag saver clip" - I only knew that's what it was because someone had helpfully written it inside the box lid. It's a small hook that uses a cantilever effect to balance on a surface so you can hang your handbag under the table or shelf. It is a brilliant piece of engineering, but it took me ages to figure out how it worked. Mind you, His Hermeneuticalness couldn't figure it out either... but then I guess he doesn't have handbags...

I was also given a large box of Maltesers by another candidate, which was very nice. Unfortunately, it being Lent, I deemed it prudent to pass the chocolates on to someone with more willpower (or who hadn't given up chocolate)...

My final thank-you goes to the candidate who presented me with a Mass card. That was a very special gift indeed...

A Chip On His Shoulder...?

*Ahem!* I am very sorry for the awful pun, but someone was sure to make it sooner or later, and so I thought I'd get it over and done with. His Hermeneuticalness has been visiting the famous Chip Museum in Bruges. Hopefully he didn't eat any of the exhibits...

So it seems that Belgium is famous for beer (Blackfen's Senior MC would probably insist on it being termed Novus ordo Eurofizz), chips and chocolate. I'm very tempted to emigrate...

Indoctrination Doesn't Always Work...

Successive governments here in the UK have been banging on about pollution, climate change, global warming, damage to the the ozone layer and greenhouse gases for at least as long as I have been teaching (and probably longer) to the extent that these topics appear with monotonous regularity on the school curriculum, particularly in Science. Rather in the way that the History curriculum seems to revolve around the trenches in World War I and the Nazis in World War II, this constant rehashing of the topics means that students "know" about it all, but they promptly switch off when they hear the key phrases.

This was demonstrated in answers to a test question I have been marking. The question was about the decline of a deer population over time. Suggestions for the cause of this decline were solicited...

In addition to the expected answers of "increased predation by wolves," "hunting" and "disease" I noted several mentions of "global warming" and "climate change." Not surprising, when these are such favourite buzzwords. But the answer which had me howling with laughter demonstrated the typical teenager's muddled thinking:

"The hole in the ozone layer is melting."

I would just like to add a disclaimer - I haven't mentioned any of these topics to the class in question!

Swapping Pulpits...

For Laetare Sunday this year, Fr. Finigan had arranged a "pulpit swap" with Fr. Christopher Basden, Parish Priest of St. Bede's, Clapham Park.

This was quite an undertaking, as, according to custom at Blackfen, we were due to have a Solemn High Mass, to make full use of our splendid rose High Mass set. However, Fr. Basden took it all in his stride, proudly reminding the parishioners of Blackfen that he had reintroduced the traditional liturgy at St. Bede's long before Fr. Finigan had done so at Our Lady of the Rosary!

Fr. Basden was celebrant, Fr. Bernard McNally was deacon, and Rev. John Harrison was subdeacon. Once again I had my phone camera to hand, and a small selection of photos can be found over at the Flickr page.

Day With Mary

The Day With Mary team visited Blackfen on the first Saturday of March. It was a wonderful day, and very well-attended.

You can see my selection of photos on the Flickr page for the set. Unfortunately I forgot my proper camera, but my mobile phone did quite a reasonable job, I think.

I think that one of my favourite photos from the collection was taken during the recitation of the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary, in front of the Blessed Sacrament, led by one of the Franciscan Sisters of the Immaculate. The Sisters are wonderful - they always appear serene and joyful, and they just exude holiness...

I also paid the obligatory visit to the bookstall during the lunch break - though due to financial constraints I was forced to forego my usual spending spree... though I did manage to obtain a copy of Joan Carroll Cruz's Eucharistic Miracles - a book I'd read before (borrowed from someone) and had been meaning to get for ages for myself. Despite my lack of purchasing power, the ladies manning the stall were happy to pose for a photo opportunity...

Sodality Of The Five Holy Wounds...

The Sodality of the Five Holy Wounds held a Missa Cantata at Our Lady of the Rosary, Blackfen on Friday. The Friday after the Third Sunday in Lent is traditionally the Feast of the Five Holy Wounds, which I hadn't realised before.

The unfamiliarity with this Feast meant that there was a bit of a query as to the liturgical colour in the Sacristy before Mass...

The Mass itself was beautifully sung. It was known as the Golden Mass, revealed to Pope Boniface II in 532AD and believed to have been composed by St. John the Evangelist himself.

I only took a few photos, and they can be seen on my Flickr page. The dates and times of future meetings are to be confirmed, but if you want to join the Sodality, you can keep an eye on events by checking out the Sodality blog. More information about the Sodality and its Constitutions can be found there too.

Photos From Brighton...

With shame, I realise that I didn't get around to posting any of the photos from the 150th Anniversary Mass of St. Mary Magdalen's, Brighton - the ones I posted directly from the phone didn't really count!

The Mass was really wonderful, as was the party afterwards. A selection of photos can be seen on my Flickr page for the event.

I got there early enough to get a shot of the choir rehearsing beforehand...

The church really did look beautiful...

And at the end, Fr. Ray Blake kindly allowed me to take his photo...

One advantage of having taken so long to get the photos up is that I can also link to Fr. Tim Finigan's sermon, as well as to the official photos page, and to recordings of Bruckner's Locus Iste and the setting of Tu es Petrus which Tom Bennett composed especially for the Anniversary Mass. Awesome. Clare, who runs the choir at St. Mary Magdalen's, has some fantastic posts also, so do go and check her blog.

Presents...

My next-door neighbour accosted me as I returned from Mass this afternoon. Had I received any more presents from the Monsignori? she wanted to know. I replied in the negative, and she warned me that Furretti had succeeded in catching a squirrel the other day, but when my neighbour intervened, the cat dropped the squirrel which then made its escape.

On entering the flat, both cats came to greet me in a manner which I have learned to distrust. It's a sort of "We're here, and we love you, and we want you to come with us now because we have something to show you..." manner. Warily, I followed the cats into the living room. There was a live pigeon on top of the curtain track. Miaowrini was miaowing like mad, running between me and the pigeon, as if to say "I want that one, can you get it down for me, pleease..."

Well, it wasn't easy. The pigeon was too high up for me to drop a towel over it, and when I went to open the curtains it flew back across the room, much to the cats' delight. I managed to open the window, but it blew shut again just as the pigeon tried to fly out, so the poor thing stunned itself on the glass. I got the towel over the bird at that point, and waited for it to calm down (its heart was hammering so hard I could feel it, and Miaowrini's cries of excitement didn't help!) before I let it fly off. The poor bird had been a bit chewed up before it got away, and the state of the living room floor gave testimony to the epic battle which had occurred.

I still marvel at how they got the bird up to the catflap in the first place...

Back Again...

I appear to have had a blogging break for the past two weeks. It feels a lot longer. Nothing to do with Lent - I just seemed to be too tired, or too busy, or too uninspired... or a combination of all three.

Every now and then I get the urge to give up blogging for good, but I do enjoy it... I've just been out of sorts. And I have lost a lot of readers too... I suspect that I have been given a dose of my own medicine - dead blogs are expunged regularly from my own blogrolls, so it wouldn't surprise me if my lack of output has led to the blog being culled.

Anyway, I shall attempt to get back on the straight and narrow - blogging shall recommence forthwith!