WHY BOYS NEED PARENTS!

someone  sent me an email containing these pictures

captioned "Why Boys need Parents". I hope they make you smile!













Have a good day!

Chris

PAUSE FOR THOUGHT

I was sent these images today and I consider them some of the mostpoignant pictures that I have seen in a very long time.  Take your time to look at them and think!

TWO TIMING

Hi, Scamp here.

I had a bit of a fright the other day - I was taking my humanoid for a walk, and he was ambling along lost in thought while I furgled in the bushes when who should appear my my best beloved Ruby, but with her also was Holly. Now Holly is quite fetching in her red coat, but she is not quite my type - and - well a good bit older than Ruby (actually positively middleaged) and I am still quite a young thing who would be sowing my wild oats (if I still had the tackle which was unceremoniously removed one day when I was asleep - but that is another story). But Holly pusued me very actively, and would you believe it, then Josie arrived. Now don't get me wrong, I like Josie and we have had the odd surreptitious kiss, but she is far too big for me, and she can be a bit boisterous, completely flattening me when she sees me, and even knocking over the odd humanoid. But I ask you, half past eight in the morning being pursued by three of them. What it is to be popular. I am not sure Ruby sees it that way, she really looked askance at me when Holly and Josie hove into view. It really was a troubling moment or three as they chased me around the field. 

How can I prove my faithfulness  toRuby when these others keep pursuing me? The trouble is my humanoid doesn't understand about these doggie issues: that sort really do not weave such tangled webs......

I'll keep you posted of developments

Scamp

I always thought I had been born on a Thursday. (Thursdays child has far to go…), so it was something of a shock, a great bomb blast to my psyche, my very being, to discover that Mother was wrong. How could Mother be wrong on such an important matter as the day of my birth? If she was wrong on that, what else could she have been wrong about? For sixty four years I  have been living a lie, living under a misapprehension. Perhaps I better sign up immediately for therapy.  You see I have just discovered that I was born on a Friday (Fridays child is loving and giving….), which would of course explain why I never got very far in life. Oh dear. Oh very dear!

 

It was all part of some research into early life, family trees and all that jazz. I also discovered that I was born in the year of the Monkey. I got this from one website:

Monkeys are fun and loving persons who are always cheerful and energetic. They are very clever. Give a monkey a boring book to read and he'll turn it into a Musical. Better yet, he'll invite everyone to see it free! That's how talented, creative and generous monkeys usually are.

If you go to a party, you'll find Monkeys at the center of attention. Their charm and humour is the key to their popularity.

Most Monkeys have one fetish - FOOD. They are not pigs, they don't stuff themselves with food, instead, they just have this habit of eating snacks whenever they like, and wherever they like. And one last truth about monkey people is, they adore bananas. Go visit your monkey friend's kitchen, I bet you will find some bananas there

 

The only bit I recognize is the bit about bananas – spot on, the rest is completely not me!

 

Another website about Capricorns had this to say The wit and flippancy which is characteristic of certain Capricornians may make some turn to entertainment as a career.  Perhaps that is why I became a priest….   It said a great deal about Capricornians being subject to rickets and deafness.   Pardon? I didn’t quite hear that.

It is just as well I do not believe in astrology (but I have been known to read my horoscope just in case….) And to be serious for just one moment, when I read a huge amount of verbiage about what I should be like, it proved to me how much more important nurture and nature are than the influence of stars millions of miles away (which could already have ceased to exist because the light from those stars started the journey to my eye sight long before I was even born!)

London buses now proclaim that God probably does not exist.  S/He does! S/He has changed my life for the better and made me into what I am today, warts and all. Even if God did give me parents who did not always get it absolutely right they provided the nature, the nurture, the security, love and the environment for me to become what I am. That surely is something to be glad about. So perhaps I’ll pass on the therapy and start to write that Musical.

Christopher Elliott

Hi Scamp here. Phew! Yesterday turned out to be a day and a half. First of all my humanoid took me for a walk as he usually does. He released me (he thinks he sees more birds if I am not on the lead), and there I was furgling in the bushes smelling rabbits and all sorts, and then whoosh! out of the blue, there she was! My first and only true love, Ruby! She had been taken away by her humanoid, and gosh I did miss her. So we had a bit of a set too, as we always do, she boxed my ears, I chewed hers, she then turned me on my back and pounced on me before running off in a big circle, but I am nearly as fast as she is and  when she turned to face me I caught up with her and we had an other spat. So finally, when I was wet and muddy the humanoids stopped talking, so I said "see you" to Ruby, had a biscuit, and walked on and home for breakfast.

But then in the afternoon, the huanoids put me in the car and took me to a party where there were loads of  full sized and pint-sized humanoids, all eating and drinking, and opening special parcels: I wasn't allowed to join in and was locked in my cage. But when they had finished I was let out. Then one of them slipped outside into the garden and put a stick which was burning at one end into his mouth and appeared to be enjoying himself while  coughing and spluttering. But he did not shut the door, and I fancied a quick walk to see what Great Cornard is like.Out I slipped and soon found a hole in the fence and was soon out to see what the place was like.  Great Cornard, did I say? There's not much that's great about it, I can tell you! No fields, no hedgerows, no rabbits.Lots of streets and alleyways and houses  - I was quite lost. But I heard some small humanoids playing on the swings so I went to see if I knew them. I didn't but they saw me and tried to corner me, so I ran on, and they ran on, and then someone I knew turned up and bundled me into a car and took me back to the humanoid party, where, I think, they were pleased to see me again, but they did shut me in that dratted cage again for a bit, so I had a sleep (to be honest I was quite exhaused by Great Cornard). Ah well, quite a day, and I did dream about Lucy.....

Scamp

And a Happy New Year!

I was half-listening to a radio review of the main news items of 2008. It was very entertaining and reminded me how much more we forget  transient news stories than actually remember! I suddenly felt my age (for only 2 more days can I sing "When I'm sixty-four" because I shall have got there!) But what will you remember of 08?  McCain putting his chips on the table and choosing a pitbull with lipstick as his running mate; Obama barracking us about how it will all change with this election(and who was his running mate who will in 4 weeks time be the vice president of the US?)

But what will your memories be? Shannon Matthews? Catastrophe in Zimbabwe? The wonderful Olympics in Beijing? The Bitish tally of medals there? The wash-out summer? a particular holiday or event in your life? The death of a loved one? What are the memories that shape us? Are they personal moments, national or international events?  I suspect that for most of us it is the events that revolve around the family and close friends who make up the daily routine and ritual of our lives. I suppose external events only impact upon us when it actually affect our lives: the credit crunch and the way the value of our property and shares are quickly devalued. Or when a bank goes bust and we lose a substantial portion of savings; or the war in Afghanistan brings about the death of a loved one. That came home to me in April when I was asked to dedicate a memorial rose garden at the Anglian Regimental Chapel at Warley in Essex. At that point 10 soldiers were being commemorated who had died in the last year or two. War suddenly impacts on real people that I met on that occasion, wives, girl friends, parents, who were proud of the sacrifice and bravery that these soldiers had displayed.

So what will 2009 hold: what predictions could be made? The credit crunch deepening? Yet more businesses going under? How we we be changed: illness, bereavement, redundancy, or the challenge to let this coming year be more fun, less tense, more relaxed because we have made a resolution NOT to let things get us down? That is my resolution and I hope to keep it until at least 12th night!!

Anyway May 2009 be for you

A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Christmas Eve

Just wanted to wish my reader a very Happy Christmas and bring this blog up to date.

This morning I received an email from a correspondent who last Thurs  saw 5 Little Egrets sitting in a line in a field at Langleys, some Redwings (also in field) and several Goldcrests (a bird  we'd

never actually seen before although heard) unusually very low down in a
hedgerow.  There's me crowing (and there are plenty of crows around here) about the odd one or two we see hereabouts and dear old Bill gets to see a whole plague of them! C'est la vie! So Scamp took me for a walk this afternoon - nearly did my gammy ankle in - we walked miles and did we see anything? Just  crows, magpies and pigeons of which there is a veritable plague - there have been hundreds (I mean hundreds) roosting in the trees here feeding of the fields - hence the recent multiplication of scarecrows and bird scarers.

Do hope Santa brings you want you want: by the way- we discovered that he does not live in Lappland but is alive and well in Turkey - here is his picture.

He is based on the life of St Nicholas who was born at Myra in Southern Turkey and which has a shrine and a wonderful statue. It is a pilgrimage site for many Russians - the day we were there it was packed out with them!

You can read more about it elsehere in my blog where I gave  an illustrated account of the journey.

Any way Happy Christmas and a

BRILLIANTLY HAPPY AND PEACEFUL NEW YEAR!

The Shortest Day of the Year

Today the sun decides it has gone south for too long and makes it's long journey back towards the Northern Hempisphere.

I began the day with a walk with the dog. The weather was mild (thermometer recorded 10C.) with a strong breeze from the south west. Above there were a few clouds scudding across the brilliant blue sky as the sun was rising through the trees. There were clouds on the horizon, which as the morning wore on gradually thickened up.

It was a beautiful morning for a walk, and for once, rarely, met not another person. Scamp was off lead and furgling in the undergrowth: he threw up a pheasant which squawked off in an ungainly flight over the hedge into the next field! It was so quiet and it was a day to listen to birdsong:all the usual blue tits, a pair of blackbirds, and I think I heard a chaffinch. But it was good just to stop and listen and look around, and enjoy the sights and sounds of the countryside, and feel at peace with oneself, the world and God.

Two birds took off from the middle of the field, and my first though was that the were larks as I have often heard skylarks here in the summer. They were too far away to get any kind of colour or shape identification, but as they flew they sang a very pretty song, but it was not like a song I have heard before, although it was melodic and carried a great distance. Perhaps they were woodlarks, - it had the undulating flight that my bird guide describes, but the territory does not quite fit. Anyway their song made my day and so we turned homeward for breakfast and then church! Have a nice day!

Christmas!

Christmas! Love it or hate it it comes round relentlessly and it is difficult not to get caught up in all the hype, overspending and overindulging!
When I was a working priest I came to hate the Christmas season which generally began in about the first week of December. I remember, for many years, having to conduct a carol service for the Brownies on about the first monday in December. Invariably I had a filthy cold (man-flu of course!), felt pretty lousy, the church was feeezing cold, and the Brownies doing the readings and prayers inaudible, despite microphones! This was followed in quick succession by a series of Christmas lunches, dinners or parties for the various groups within the parish who always expected the parish priest to turn up and felt slighted if you were double booked. So by the time Christmas actually arrived this particular parish priest was dead on his feet, far too full of Christmas dinners and had sung "O Little town of Bethlehem" about 20 times, and as for having something fresh to say (off the cuff!) for each and every group required rather more preparation that time allowed. Because believe it not, the other every day work of the parish priest went on - and that generally included a increased number of funerals as some of the elderly very inconveniently would die in the run up to Christmas, and their beloved relatives always wanted the funeral done before Christmas (so that they could still go off ski-ing), so alongside the crib service, the Midnight mass, and trying to visit the ladies decorating the church for Christmas, often on Christmas Eve would had a 40 mile round trip to the crematorium.
So on Christmas Day after church, this particular parish priest would fall asleep very quickly, and by about 8.00 in the evening would give up the struggle and go to bed!

I rather wish I had been a purist and refused absolutely all invitations to Christmas events on the ground that December is the season of Advent - the time of preparation for the great event of Christmas - the coming of Christ in the event of the Incarnation: no carols to be sung until Christmas Eve, and the carol service to be help on the Sunday AFTER Christmas. The one year I did try that- there was great murmuring against the parish priest and a noticeable lack of people attending. You see how we have turned everything on its head and now celebrate before the day. We have lost the great anticipation of Advent. So when we try to keep the 12 days of Christmas - right up to January 5th, most people have had too much and have given up by Boxing Day.

Do I believe in Christmas? Well yes I do. I am not too sure about the details of the Christmas story, but what I do believe is that at a certain time in history, in the person of Jesus, God acted for the salvation of the world. The problem is that most of us have not understood it. As one writer put it recently, think about our little globe spinning through the infinity of space and how tiny it is in comparison. Then think about how, throughout human history, men have fought and spilt much blood, and sacrificed millions of lives to control little bits of our globe which we are in danger of destroying through our activities. It is mind boggling! And we shall sing "Peace of earth!" and then carry on our petty squabbles.

"O Little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie". A town now ringed by a ghastly wall and in which the Christian presence is being squeezed right out. It is no longer a peaceful town and perhaps we ought to ban that particular carol for the time being!

So some not very Christmassy thoughts but I wish my reader a very happy Christmas and hope to you will have a very happy one and think about the real meaning of the season.

THE PANTOMIME SEASON

We went to the Panto last night and it was brilliant! It was "Snow White" performed by the Chelmsford area Young Farmers. Not knowing quite what to expect we were very pleasantly surprised by the high standard of production - not "West End" but perfectly enjoyable local am-dram story telling, acceptable to all the family, and excellently staged. There was music, dancing, slapstick, "He's Behind you!" together with all the booing and hissing that goes with panto and the usual really corny jokes. It just proves that family fun does not always have to be crude and vulgar to be enjoyable - and it was all the better for it. There were some really funny moments which engaged the whole audience from children right up to grandparents. It is a pity it is on for only 4 performances.

It reminded me of the times when we used to go with our kids to the Panto at the Mercury Theatre in Colchester: being theatre chaplain did give me some benefits! It was always a good family entertainment from a regular crew of actors who were there year by year, but ever fresh.
For a few years we introduced a "Pantomime Carol Service" when the cast would come and sing carols interspersed with readings, biblical and secular. Interestingly the cast would not appear on stage "in character" as it was regarded as bad luck, but they came and were very supportive - I am quite sure it had nothing to do with the splendid buffet lunch that the theatre provided for them afterwards - before the matinee! But, for me, it was where Christmas started because there was a exceptionally high standard of reading, singing, and enjoyment, and after the first year or two, as word spread, the theatre would be full of people who came from local churches, or shoppers who were lured in for a break from the Christmas rush.

I met some lovely people in that time and was privileged to minister to people who worked in a transient occupation and who suffered the same stresses and strains as the rest of us - and often more of them because of the pressure of the job. I conducted weddings, baptisms and funerals for some of the theatre population and did a fair amount of listening at moments of high stress. So the Panto season brings more than simple enjoyment - but also many happy memories!

Hello! My name is Doushal Sentry Duty which is a very silly name, so everyone calls me Scamp, which they say, jokily, Scamp by name, Scamp by nature. Really can't get my head round this humans-at-home kind of humour. But I do live up to my real name - when I am outside I patrol up and down the perimeter fence looking for other dogs, birds, rodents to bark at. Actually what I bark at most are snails - well they don't DO anything do they? Whenever I find one, they retreat inside their shells, so I bark very excitedly to get them to come and play. But they are so boring, they refuse even to look at me. We really could have a good game - I would lick them to death, if only they would let me. So boring. When I am indoors I like to sit on the windowsill in the garden room: I can see for miles across the fields - and I can bark at the birds - especially those 2 big white ones when they come into view. I think he said they were egrets, but what does he know?

Anyway - I have been given permission to write something this time - he said something about it being an early Christmas present - but he is such a tight-wad that I know he was not even going to buy me one - he's too mean even to buy a wallet - that's the Scots blood left in him, and I should know, with my Cairn blood in me. Actually, the Elliotts never were true Scots, they were a band of marauders who rustled cattle in the Borders, and now they pretend to be respectable! I ask you.

I've actually been very poorly for a couple of weeks. Puking and squitting all over the place. They took me to the dog-doctor who treated me abominably. All I wanted was to be left alone but he poked and prodded me all over, stuck something up my backside and said my temperature was normal, but I was obviously suffering from something, so he stuck a needle in me and took a load of blood out of me, and then stuck another needle in me to try and replace that blood but it didn't look like blood, I think he said it was Aunty's Biotics. Which Aunty is that? Whats a biotic when it is at home? This dog-doctor then gave instructions about what I could and could not eat - it seems to be next to nothing, but at least it is 3-4 times a day rather than once, and they do keep feeing my chicken and rice: rice is so boring, when you are young and lusty like me you want real food - lots of steak and potato, lots of fatty foods. But no - a non-fat diet. I ask you, its not very good for your street cred: and I've lost so much weight - I'm fair fading away. Here's a picture of me feeling right poorly. What a sorry sight I am. The dog doctor said that I have got pancreatitis for which there is no medicine or tablets, just careful eating which is so boring!

I must tell you about my girl friend. Her name is Ruby - actually she is a bit of a rough diamond, because she does love a good punch up. We meet several morning a week out in the fields and my human-at-home trusts me enough to let me off my lead whenever we meet so that we can have a bit of a lark around. Ruby and I get to see how many other dogs in the group get jealous - and also generally try and knock at least one other human over. That's not boring I can tell you! Ruby is a very good boxer (not boxer as in breed - boxer as in pugilist - big dog-word for one who is good with paws - paws at the kerb and all that mullarky which I have never bothered with - thats for softies - but maybe thats why they don't often let me off the lead....), so we have a bit of a punch-up and chew each other to bits, and then she loses interest. I sometimes wonder whether she is faithful........ But we did try to elope one morning last February. It was a great lark, but the thing was we got lost in the fog, and eventually they came to rescue us, but which time we were both exhausted and eloping had lost its appeal, so we went home.

So that's me. If ever you see me around Minnow End do stop for a sniff - there are such good smells on the posts and trees there - it's worth a visit.

See you!

Scamp

(Thats webdings for Scamp)

Gosh 3 weeks and I've not written anything! Life has been so full - but then I have been setting up my own webpage,which if you are not a computer geek can be troublesome - I'm not - and it was! But it is there for all to see at http://home.btconnect.com/minnowend.co.uk so do go there and have a browse as I am trying to do a few things that might
a.) promote the Christian Faith, and
b.) interest people, and
c. )amuse.

But if you log on regularly both to this and that we might entertain, keep me, as a 64 year old retiree parson, off the streets, and also from getting ready for the bath chair, which I dread! One of my son jokes regularly that, when when have been here a couple of years we are off to the old folks home and he will cash in. (Little does he know about all that I have left in store for him!!!!) AND what he doesn't know, is that by the time it gets to that point, we shall have taken ourselves off to Beachy Head with the idea of jumping together because neither of us fancy the other options. The problem is, we shall get to Beachy Head (and what a lovely place it is!) and forget why we went there in the first place: we shall have an ice cream, a bit of lunch, and say: "What a nice day we have had - shall we go home now?"

Actually, jumping off Beach Head is a ghastly idea. What do you think about when you fly through the air with the greatest of ease with the thought of hitting the ground and being so ....

As a Christian I have never seriously contemplated suicide - there have been odd occasions in deep depressions (oh yes) when the thought has flashed through one's mind - but seriously contemplating it? No. Life is too precious - a gift of God - and I do not think I could ever take that step. But then I have never had a debilitating or terminal illness which threaten to remove all life forces, choices and abilities.

Gosh, serious stuff for a friday night!!

Yesterday I went down to London for a hospital appointment. Once that was over I went on to The National Gallery. It must be 40 years since I last went there, but it was as magnificent as ever. I went to renew my acquaintance with the Impressionists, but also to look at the Titian that need £50,000,000 to keep it there. I went, I looked, I loved the colours, I loved the vibrancy, but being a philistine, I found the subject matter completely unmoved me. I came away saddened that anyone would even thing that any painting is worth that amount of money. I went back to Turner, to Van Gogh, to Manet, Monet and all the others, and had a very peaceful hour and a half. But fifty million pounds for one picture? No way. When the country is going through such difficult times with finance, murdered children, struggling schools and an NHS which cannot afford drugs for very ill patients(unless you luckily live in the right postal area), then surely we have our priorities wrong.

TURKEY - A PILGRIMAGE IN SEARCH OF ST PAUL

FOLLOWING ST PAUL BY LAND AND SEA

No journey to Turkey can begin anywhere other than Istanbul where east and west meet at the Bosphorus in a riot of colour, smells, people and wonderful buildings. We were met at the airport by our coach and our guide Sait – who was my guide on a previous visit and who was to be with us throughout our two weeks in Turkey. Such a useful person in providing all the information and finalising arrangements and sorting out problems that inevitably occur in a journey like this. But not least because of his encyclopaedic knowledge of his beloved country.

So, here in Istanbul (Constantinopolis, as Sait calls it) in a couple of days one can cram in visits to the Hippodrome, the Blue Mosque, and the Hagia Sophia (“Divine Wisdom”), once a Basilica, then a Mosque and now a museum. Include a visit to the Justinian Ciserns – underground – once featured in a James Bond film, and lunch at the Topkapi Palace where one can just spend the rest of the day drinking in the views, the treasurers and the atmosphere. A second day would include the Spice Market, the Grand Bazaar, the Suleimanye Mosque and the stunning frescoes and mosaics of the Church of our Saviour at Chora – now a museum. All that before lunch! Then there is then time to get on a boat and travel the Bosphorus stopping off for a wonderful repast at the Mer Restaurant in Tarabya.

The next morning an early flight took the party to Kayseri right in the middle of Turkey in the region called Cappadocia. We are now almost at the furthest point north in which St Paul travelled in “Asia Minor”. We immediately boarded a coach and headed off for the Zelve valley where we visited some weird pink stone “fairy chimneys” which, in many ways is reminiscent of Petra. After settling in to our hotel for a two night stay, there is time to relax with a swim in the pool before supper.

The next day was spent at the Goreme Open Air Museum. A fascinating area where we homes, churches, stores, and all manner of buildings are carved out of the rock. Some of these churches date from the very first centuries of Christianity. Over the next couple of days were to see some stunning paintings and mosaics.

In the afternoon an energetic few climbed the Kale – a rocky outcrop which gave stunning views. We also stopped at an underground city – Kaymakli which many found a little claustraphobic – but it was about the coolest place on an otherwise roasting day!

Then next morning most of us were up by

5 a.m. for a balloon ride over Cappadocia. This was amazing not least for the large number of balloons going up and down and gently gliding over the landscape. It was over all too quickly! But then it was back to the hotel for breakfast before setting off for the full day's programme, which included a visit to the Sultan Hani Caravanseri -excellently restored – and built like a cathedral. One could imagine when it was filled to the brim with travellers, animals, traders and full ofsmoke, noise, bartering and bustle!

We continued on our journey southwest, coming to Iconium (modern day Konya), which was a real spiritual centre. Here St Paul with Barnabas visited and made a number of converts– and here we encountered the Whirling Dervishes and the shrine to the mystic philosopher Celaddin Rumi. There was opportunity to borrow the local Catholic Church and celebrate the Holy Communion and reflect on the extraordinary tenacity of Paul and Barnabas who travelled so far on foot for the cause of the gospel. Hot, dusty, dry, but we travelled by modern air conditioned coach. Pilgrims are no longer so hardy!

The next couple of days included some amazing places visiting sites that Paul and Barnabas went to spread the gospel – Antioch in Pisidia (Yalvac), Derbe, Lystra and then Antalya. The first week finished with a visit to Aspendos – the best preserved Roman Amphtheatre in the world. It was truly stunning and we were treated to some singing by some school children which was truly lovely.

And so we began the second week, by coming to Finike marina where where embarked on a gulet for 7 days cruising along the south coast of Turkey. We had travelled over 500 km by coach in the steps of St Paul and now we were to relax and another way Paul and his companions travelled in order to spread the gospel.

Our gulet, Sultan A, was a most wonderful traditionally built craft with 8 twin en-suite cabins, and a crew of 3-4 to sail her and cook. It was a week of unparalleled luxury with some most wonderful dishes served for breakfast lunch and dinner all taken on the rear deck – under the cover of the awning, looking at some of the most spectactular views ever seen on the Turquoise Coast. At about 30 metres long she was large and spacious but also intimate enough for a

group of 14 people. Most sea going journeys were under motor power: sadly everytime the crew put up the sails the wind died away completely – it was one of those weeks. But a gulet under sail is quite an experience!Next time ---I promise!

Each day we would move on to a new place, journeying for 2-4 hours, leaving plenty of time to visit places on interest, and then relax, swim, sleep, read drink tea or have a glass of wine.

After a night on board we came to Myraere there are some magnificent Lycian tombs. Myra was the Metropolitan city of Lycia and St Nichol

as was Bishop in the 4^th century. In Myra there is a marvellous basilica which is a focus of pilgrimage for Russian Christians, and in the town there are 2statues – one the more traditional and the other

the more popular image of today. But I think I also like this one because she refused to move

until the picture had been taken!

I think she is Russian!

Our nights were often spent moored in one of the many rocky inlets along the coast, so it was always peaceful, and there was the opportunity to swim, or go ashore and walk. But being Sunday we celebrated Holy Communion and reflected on Paul, Nicholas and how blessed we were to be able to experience these lovely places.

The next few days were spent moving along the coast visiting the sunken city of Kekova, a Byzantine city, now submerged, to Kalekoy where the small hamlet climbs steeply to

the top, and where we were persuaded to purchase items made by the local women who were indefatigable in accompanying us to the top of the island

and back again, filling in the bits and pieces of history that even escaped our guide, Sait! We came to Kas where we stayed overnight in the little port. One afternoon, after a morning cruising along the coast we disembarked and boarded a minibus to take us into the heart of Lycia – to Xanthos and the Roman theatre and Byzantine citadel, and then to Patara, the birthplace of St Nicholas, and visited by St Paul on his thirds missionary journey.

Then next day we visited the Island of Gemiler which was the former site of a monastic community between the fourth and seventh centuries. There are still, on this small island, the ruins of seven churches, some still with wall paintings and a vaulted processional way linking the upper church to the monastery at the top of the island. Here again, we used one of the churches to celebrate Holy Communion.

We spent the last day cruising then into the harbour at Gocek for some last minute shopping and a real burst of reality as this busy little port was hosting a pop concert in the main square which kept the town and all its visitors awake until the wee small hours, when it was all too soon tim

e for the transfer to the airport for the journey home.

Why go on a pilgrimage? Ask the people who come on them! For some it brings the Christian faith alive: for others it is a life changing experience: for many it is the chance to have an unforgettable holiday in a Christian atmosphere enjoying some of the wonderful places of our world.

Turkey is a most wonderful land, full of lovely people. But there is a hint of sadness when one sees many ancient ruined churches and a tiny Christian presence. Did St Paul labour in vain?

Christopher Elliott

The English Language

There has been some comment in the newspapers, recently, about the poor spelling of many people who have passed through our education system. Teachers who cannot spell have also been in the limelight. As a one time school governor, way back in the mid 1980’s I know even then it gave cause for concern! But far be it from me to cast aspersions – I generally can spell accurately – but having done one little newspaper test only got 8/10!

But rooting through a box of papers recently I came across this little gem by U.N.Known.

Why English Is So Hard.

We’ll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,

But the plural of ox should be oxen not oxes.

Then one fowl is goose, but two are called geese,

Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.

You may find a lone mouse or a whole lot of mice,

But the plural of house is houses not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,

Why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen?

The cow in the plural may be cows or hine

But the plural of vow is vows not vine.

And I speak of a foot, and you show me your feet,

But I give you a boot – would a pair be called beet?

If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,

Why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth?

If the singular is this and the plural is these,

Should the plural of hiss be nicknamed hese?

Then one may be that, and these may be those,

Yet the plural of hat would never be hose.

We speak of a brother, and also of brethren,

But though we say mother, we never say methren.

The masculine pronouns are he, his and him,

But imagine the feminine, she, she’s and shim!

So our English, I think you will agree

Is the hardest language you ever did see.