Well, yes indeed, since you ask – we had a lovely Christmas – two of the children with us and my uncle too.  Simon was spending Christmas on a beach somewhere south of the other Perth.  Poppy particularly enjoys the constant presence of attentive friends and a real fire.  Blogstead, as you would expect, is a place where the ‘wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat .. ‘ – so the presence of a Christmas Eve shooting party just across the fence resplendent in their House of Bruar tweeds was a bit of a shock.  We tried to do justice to the hallowed Blogstead traditions – the carols round the brazier in the courtyard, the Chaplains’ Boxing Day Croquet Match – but the weather was a little sharp.  People keep saying that more and more people come to church at Christmas and so it proved to be both at Midnight Eucharist in the Cathedral and at St Andrew’s, St Andrews on Christmas morning.  I wish I knew why but it’s almost certainly a good thing that I don’t.  The sermon [at midnight] was like this.

So it’s down to the struggle with the Christmas sermon.  At first glance it looks fairly easy but I think its fairly difficult.  Christmas sort of defines its own agenda and there is so much stuff going on that it’s hard to add anything significant from the pulpit.  And there are always lots of people who come to church at Christmas and not at other times .. which creates its own pressures.  I’ll see how I get on tomorrow – I’ve only had a year to work on it.

Well – it was -6.5C here at Blogstead when we brought Bam Bam back from the airport this evening.  About the same this morning as I cycled on the Brompton across Perth towards the 7.14 am train to Edinburgh.  Just imagine that there is no train to Edinburgh between 7.14 am and 8.48 am.

Meanwhile the Blogstead Christmas Programme moves into overdrive tomorrow.  I am also concerned that the decorations show a certain Anglican modesty on the flashing light and illuminated Santa front.  But tomorrow is another day.

Welcome news for the Mission to Seafarers in Scotland as Rev Tom Allen’s appointment as Chaplain of the Scottish Ports is announced.  Tom is at present Vicar of Oakworth in the Diocese of Bradford.  Piskie bloggers and others will immediately recognise him as Big Bulky Anglican.  The post represents a significant development of the ministry of MTS in Scotland and builds on the tremendous work done by Rev Robin Underhill during the past few years.  Tom will be based near Grangemouth where he will work approximately two days each week – the rest of his time being spent developing a network of ship-visiting ministry across Scotland.  He has had a long interest in maritime affairs and chaplaincy and, not surprisingly, is deeply interested in the applications of new technology to ministry.

It’s all in the communicating.  I called into my favourite clothes shop – McMahons in Portadown.  To be honest, it’s not so much my favourite.  More like the only shop in which I can be persuaded to buy clothes.  The suits always fit.  So we called in on Friday.  John the boss was downstairs and Clifford upstairs surrounded by suits.  We extended the range of choice to about six.  They all fitted perfectly.  Except that I didn’t fit the trousers any more.  But of course there was no talk of weight or middle-aged spread or loss of muscle tone or the ‘f’ word .. Clifford just murmured something about ‘easing’.  As if somehow it was something to do with the trousers.  And it was done.  What a useful concept, I thought.  Anything inconvenient or uncongenial – sermons, inadequate stipend, tiresome people – I’ll just ‘ease’ them a little and that will be that.

Changes in other people’s arrangements left us with tickets to fly to Belfast – already paid for elsewhere. So we decided to do a hit and run visit to Blogstead na Mara in Donegal – since we probably won’t get there until after Easter – to make sure all is well. Just time also to buy the suit in McMahons of Portadown – of which more another day. Regular readers will know of my fascination with the Wayside Pulpit at Hillhall Presybterian Church, Belfast. ‘Use Sunblock – Don’t block out the Son’ having been replaced by ‘Seven days without prayer makes one weak.’ Meanwhile, across the border, rumours of the demise of the Irish Catholic Church are clearly premature. The local shop in Dunfanaghy this morning was advertising ‘Pre-signed Mass Cards’. This is clearly a church responding to the fast-moving secular society. Pre-baptised babies will surely follow, along with the pre-sung hymn and the pre-preached sermon. After all, across Ireland, Sunday Mass already takes place on Saturday night.

I carry from childhood a memory of an energetic conversation between my father and my grandfather about the number of gears his car had.  Grandfather said three – my father said four.  ‘But’ said my grandfather in his defence, ‘gear changing to me is as natural as breathing’.  Which is why it is good for me to do as I did this evening – enjoy the company of the members of our Ministry Reflection Group thinking together about communication, what is it and what it is for.  As I ponder Crieff’s 20th Anniversary Service on Sunday, a Thought for the Day on Tuesday, a Probus Group and the PACT Carols in the Concert Hall next week – all requiring words, words …  what is it that we are trying to do.  With unerring aim, they had it sorted – if I heard them correctly.  Can’t communicate in the name of Christ if you are not in communication with God.  Like:  Can’t live with others unless you can live with yourself.  Thanks