A little late – but not too late for the New Year Resolutions.  Boris Johnson in the Independent said that his were: Rise Early. Work Late.  Eat Less.  To say that I am not sure about mine suggests a fundamental lack of resolution.  But here goes:  Rise earlier; go to bed earlier; cycle more; eat less; pray more; drink less; remember to be kind; be braver when the frites are down; don’t take myself too seriously; take myself more seriously than I do.  So if I have difficulty with the concept of New Year resolutions, do I really have problems with the idea that change is possible?

Both places where the culture comes in bite-sized chunks – so an overnight sea crossing between the two was always going to be an interesting experience.  In the end, it was a bit like the church at both its best and its worst – lovely people doing their very best but they hadn’t quite worked out how to do it. 

We sat in the cold waiting to check in for a while – and then another while.  Alison was getting restless but was totally disarmed by the greeting from the staff, ‘I love your Radley handbag.’  And then we moved on to the Security Staff – ‘Are you carrying any dangerous substances – or any substances for which you require a licence – not including the wife?’  As they say in Belfast, ‘Hard to beat.’  But better still – after we had waited another while in the cold – was the wonder of an escalator from the car deck upwards.  But the queue at the top to collect cabin keys was so long that people were having to run briskly backwards on the spot because they couldn’t get off.  But the ship was big and the cabin was great so we survived a rough crossing well.

Seeing Liverpool in the dark and the dawn reminds me that the generation which has grown up with Easyjet and Ryanair knows nothing about the way in which most Irish people’s experience of England began with unslept and unwashed dawn arrivals.  For me, ‘abroad’ began with a childhood crossing from Cork to Fishguard on the Inisfallen and somebody selling the Western Mail on the train to London.  Nothing has ever again seemed as foreign as that.

There are so many reasons why the hurried execution of Saddam Hussein is wrong that it’s hard to know where to begin.  I am opposed to capital punishment – and this kind of flawed process confirms me in that opposition.  It won’t bring closure – just add more fuel to the flames.  It denies justice to the numberless families for the death of whose loved ones he was responsible.  It gives him instant martyrdom – a fast track out of history into mythology.  It undermines the very values which the invasion was supposed to establish.  And beyond that, it removes any possibility of change of heart, remorse, of being part of the ultimate solution …. it freezes things at their very worst.

The Irish papers are full of the progression which Sinn Fein is making towards acceptance/support of the police in both parts of Ireland.  It will be hard for many people who lived through the violent years to see it.  But this is a remarkable piece of political leadership on the part of Gerry Adams.  Brendan Behan once said that the first item on the agenda of any Irish political party is ‘The Split’.  So to bring the Republican Movement – without a split – through decommissioning of weapons to recognition of the authority of the police is a really significant feat of leadership.  But no one should be dewy-eyed about this.  There is still very little warmth around and almost no trust in the political world of Northern Ireland.  But it is ‘jaw, jaw’ and, in the background, the faint sound of swords being beaten ..

…. where the weather is coming straight from Rockall.  But everything is now shipshape after the explosion.  We now have a key to the new boiler house – it is vastly bigger than the old one and has definite bicycle storage, den and possibly retirement potential.  We’re heading home via a birthday party in Leicester and a quick visit to my sister and family in Cambridge.  Poppy decided that Hogmanay in Edinburgh was a safer bet than Donegal.

Meanwhile – a happy New Year to one and all – not forgetting Marc Horne of the Sunday Times who wrongly reported me as being in favour of the legalisation of prostitution – which enabled Gillian Bowditch to take a side-swipe at me as well.  I do have a sort of sympathy for journalists and they have usually treated me well.  It must be difficult to get politicians to tell the truth and probably more difficult to get bishops and clergy to say anything worth reporting.  But that’s no excuse for cutting corners.  So for the record I am not in favour of legalisation – as you’ll find further back on the blog – because it deals with none of the fundamental issues which lead vulnerable young women into this degrading trade.

Strange how affected we are by mood or by …    I think Christmas is a difficult time for the preacher – certainly I found it so this year.  Everybody knows the story and yet you have to rummage about in the hay and find something relevant to say about it.  But if the Incarnation isn’t relevant, I don’t know what is.  Strange too that sometimes, when it doesn’t come all that easily, one actually communicates better!
Cathedral Christmas Midnight 2006.doc

A good Christmas had by all.  Our three children with us – and granny too – so a day to savour.  I’ve been in Alyth, the Cathedral and Auchterarder and it’s been great.  But I still miss the parish at Christmas – when I knew not just the people who were there regularly but those who turned up at Christmas and brought all sorts of complicated reasons with them.

Tesco on Christmas Eve was not an experience to savour but I did enjoy one bit of nebbing as I listened to social change happening ‘right now as we speak’.  Young couple standing by the bread counter.  ‘Why are you buying that?’ he asked as she lifted a baguette.  ‘To make crostini,’ she responded.  ‘What’s that?’  ‘You slice it thinly .. and drizzle it with olive oil .. and put it in the oven.’  ‘Why would you do that?’ he asked.  Sometimes I actually do get at least to the edges of understanding why women give up.

Readers of Kelvin’s blog at www.thurible.net will have had further updates on the chaos. I got my suitcase back last night – amazing! A second member of our family is on the sleeper tonight – Simon needing to get back from a wedding in Exeter to work in Edinburgh tomorrow. Having read Simon Calder in the Independent today, I wonder if all of this will ultimately do anything to dent our love affair with air travel.

Meanwhile, here is this morning’s Thought for the Day

TFTD 22.12.06.doc

We thought that getting home was all going to be simple.  But of course flew straight into the chaos of Heathrow last night.  Why do they let transfer passengers fly in – and not try and divert them by another route before they reach London.  People and staff were doing their best but, as usual, people on the internet outside the airport had more information than those of us inside.  Like the population of Russia in the old days, we joined queues without quite knowing what they were for.  We went as instructed to the back of Costa Coffee and lifted the yellow phone – attempting to get our bags back.  But it was completely hopeless.  Do they have no contingency plans whatsoever?  I expect to get my bag back some time after Christmas.
So we decided just to get out of it – friend on the internet booked the sleeper train to Glasgow – train to Edinburgh – bus back to Edinburgh Airport.  And then my old friend, the long-stay car park lived up to its name.  The ticket machine took my payment but didn’t give me my ticket back.  And I couldn’t understand the Exit sign for the umpteenth time and ended up in a cul de sac.  But the nice man in the Office opened the gate and pointed me towards the promised land.

Snowing this evening here in Sweden.  Fascinating place – not that I have seen much of it – about as much as if I had flown into Edinburgh and gone to a conference in Cramond.  It reminds me that most of us have a mental map which is orientated southwards – it was always ‘turn right at Stranraer and head south from Calais.’  Scandanavia is both cold and expensive so not good for camping with small children.  But there are all these people up here – living in what feels like a most stable and prosperous society – moving around between Sweden, Norway, Iceland and the Baltic Republics – all speaking perfect English in addition to their mother tongue.  I must find an excuse to come back and have a look around.

So we got the TV cameras out of the Close at Blogstead … By the way, I met a nice lady on Sunday morning who knows her Anthony Trollope. But for those who aren’t so sure, Plumstead Episcopi was the parish of Archdeacon Grantley in his book ‘The Warden’ . So I just sort of borrowed it and turned it into Blogstead Episcopi. I’m sure Trollope wouldn’t have minded.  He worked in the Post Office and wrote [in longhand of course] each day when he came home from work. Had he been alive today, he would probably have been a blogger.
Fortunately I realised at midnight that this morning’s flight was 7 am and not 8 am. So I am now in Sigtuna, just outside Stockholm, in a very opulent Conference Centre owned by the Swedish Church. Because they are funded by tax revenues, they have more money than the SEC could dream of! Anyway, this is a Colloquium for churches of the Porvoo Communion on Same Sex Relationships. I doubt if there is much new that can be said about the theological arguments. But I am interested in the leadership issues – how keenly-felt the divisions are in each church; how the leadership is managing the issue and helping the church to live with diversity. One aspect of the nature of conflict always interests me – which is that the opposing passions tend not to match. So – to express it a bit crudely – what is an issue of scripture and its authority for one side – is an issue of justice and discrimination for the other. So it’s two conflicts, not one. And that’s only the beginning.