Tony Blair – always referred to as Mr Blur in a Portadown accent – and that ‘hand of history’ stuff. Well, maybe this time the tectonic plates of Ulster politics really have shifted as Ian Paisley and Gerry Adams sit down together. I am always saddened by the political reality that the deals are almost always done by people of the right. Why? Because there is a sort of unavoidable reality which always brings the two sides back to the same place – deciding whether or not to work together. And that applies no matter who the politicians are. And politicians of the right – if they can avoid what Brendan Behan always called ‘De Split’ can’t be outflanked, shafted, rubbished, undermined by anybody else. But I think there has been real political leadership during the last few weeks – and that usually means people saying difficult things to their own supporters. Read for yourself what Ian Paisley’s people are saying and then move on to Gerry Adams and Sinn Fein.

Kelvin helpfully points us towards some very interesting stuff on blogging from Gaping Void. It’s about what happens when the internal dialogue of your group [what you talk about yourself] is out of alignment with your external dialogue [basically your ability to relate to the bit of the world you need to relate to.] And the suggestion is that blogging is one of the things which may help to get things at least closer to the kind of alignment which is needed. The most obvious sign of that mis-alignment for us is the way in which the age profile of church membership differs from that of society as a whole. But Gaping Void reminds us that this is just symptomatic of deeper levels of un-connectedness.

We celebrated Lady Day today – commissioning Lesley, our new Diocesan President, new Trustees and new members.  Before we all went into the Cathedral, we had what they called a Holy Hour – a sequence of readings, music, interviews and images which brought together aspects of the work of MU and the commemoration of the ending of slavery.  It was extraordinarily effective – we may be a small diocese but we are rich in talent and imagination.  And then into church where we used everything from Taize to Hail Marys.

So I got on the train for Inverness at Dunkeld this morning. And it didn’t move because the points at the end of the platform had stuck – single track railway. So they sent for the man with the lever – wish I’d had my camera – a sort of Atlas-type metaphor for ministry.  It was a one Sudoku delay.

Still reading back numbers of the Church Times. The ‘Back to Church’ Sunday at end September looks interesting. Except that you can’t go back unless you know what church you are staying away from – and that’s a problem in a very mobile society. I listened with some interest to Bishop James Jones of Liverpool on Thought for the Day this morning talking about Adam Smith of Kirkcaldy – but also about a Carbon Fast for Lent

And – to move from fast to feast and return to the list thing again – the recipes:

Chile; Spag Bol; Firecracking Sausage Casserole; Prawn Stirfry; Chicken Stirfry; Chicken and Penne; Roasted Mediterranean Vegetables; Chicken Curry; absolutely nothing by Lloyd Grossman

London today on the red eye at 0645 for the Council of the Mission to Seafarers. I don’t normally turn up but, since we’ll be looking for money from them at their next meeting, I thought the least I could do was to turn up when I wasn’t, as it were. And it was over at lunchtime so I headed for an internet cafe to try and catch up on some written stuff. It felt very bizarre – the place was full of nubile Spanish students who seemed to be chattering about their relationships on Instant Messanger while simultaneously talking on Skype to Mama back in Sevilla telling how much they were missing her. It’s fortunate that the new generation is so good at multi-tasking and doesn’t get the two mixed up. I sat in the middle of it all in full episcopal kit – not the mitre – writing about vocation and ministry. Time to get a life, I suspect. Tomorrow is Inverness for another bit of the bishop-appointing process for the Diocese of Moray. The more I see of it, the more I wonder at what working of the divine will or expression of the divine sense of humour landed me where I am.

Meantime Poppy has been reading Isaiah 40. She’s not quite ‘eagles’ wings’ yet – still distinctly wobbly but improving. She can jump on and off the computer desk which is more than I can do.

If it wasn’t so late, I would be exploring another of the list things that I like so much – books read/unread, etc. This one is the suggestion that most of us only have four recipes. ‘Nonsense’ I said and then started listing my limited personal repertoire. No doubt my colleagues are well into double figures. Of which more another day.

Spent some time today working with others on our processes for responding to and fostering vocation – and all the training and nurturing that belong with that.  Of all the things that I find myself involved with, I know that I find this the most difficult.  When somebody says with utter certainty, ‘I believe that God wants me to be a priest’ – and it doesn’t seem quite so certain to me – it’s difficult.  And as we become more and more aware of the need to think about the age profile of our future clergy, we begin to think about how we can encourage and engender vocation.

The arthritis, sadly, seems to be afflicting Poppy.  After her mouse hunt in the family room overnight, she suddenly seemed to be having difficulty jumping.  She did leap onto a fence and fall off the other side while I was washing the car on Saturday.  So the vet thinks she may have an injury or the onset of arthritis.  So after X ray and other excursions into expensive private medicine as befits a cat of her age and status, she is now much better thank-you.

Spent part of this evening with a group of Humanists – arming myself with Cpt 12 of Michael Ramsey’s ‘Christian Priest Today’ in which he quotes Psalm 37 ‘Fret not thyself about the ungodly’.  But of course no fretting required.  They wouldn’t have invited me unless they were a pretty inclusive lot – or maybe they just think I am harmless.   I did my best to disarm them by suggesting that my enemies were not humanists but fundamentalists of all kinds and the indifferent shrug of secularism – and I attempted to shoot all my own foxes before they got to them.  I found it an interesting meeting.  If it leaves me with questions, it is about the apparent willingness of humanists to rely on assumptions about a set of universal human values.  Which suggests, firstly, that you can work out what those might be.  And then one ponders what humanists would do with that group of people who simply tell you where you can put your universal human values – and whether there are limits to tolerance and inclusiveness.  It was also interesting to look at what is I suppose the mixture of strands of belief in many of us.  I believe in human progress –  we celebrate the anniversary of the ending of slavery.  But we seem to make so little headway with the difficult problems – world hunger, wars, relationships – indeed, original sin lurks ..

It took me a while to notice the dead mouse under the chair in the family room this morning.  This is Poppy’s boudoir but she had obviously been conducting a personal safari overnight. This is the second time!

We spent Mothering Sunday in Auchterarder.  Beautiful church and a congregation of many talents – looking for a Rector at present.

Well, we left the St Patrick’s Day bash at the Irish Consulate at 7.55 pm precisely although I suspect it had a day or two yet to run.  Beautiful food and posh wine – but there was somebody pulling reassuring-looking pints of the black stuff over in the corner.  The room seemed to have a fair number of Irish exiles wandering about and thinking wistfully about going back home – so that was all right.  De Minister made a warm and witty speech about the ethnic links between Ireland and Scotland.  And we went home the direct route.

Time to move from ‘most unread’ to an Oscar for ‘greatest economy in an ecclesiastical setting.’

Anne’s William Trevor quote which appeared in the comments here is perfect – “nothing beats his description of Father Clohessy, with his ‘general feeling of deprivation’ and lessened sense of vocation in the face of a changing church and society.”  Diocesan Review, Year of Stewardship, clergy accountability … I can feel it myself.

My own favourite will always be drawn from the Father Ted manual on Collaborative Ministry – the Spirit leads into all truth.  ‘Makes you think, Dougal. ‘About what, Ted?’

And to move closer to home, from Trollope’s Barchester Towers – a sort of handbook of anglican polity – Bishop Proudie is not impressed by Mr Slope’s sermon – which he regards as ‘ill-timed, impertinent and vexatious’ – and meets the disapproval of his wife. ‘There was a look about the lady’s eye which did not admit of my lord’s disapproving at that moment.  He felt that if he intended to disapprove, it must be now or never; but he also felt that it could not be now.’