Faith. Fully.

I’m not sure I often wave the flag when I peek over the top of my parapet to gaze askance at the world around me.

I guess I tend to think that my faith is so integral to who I am that I don’t actually NEED to wave the flag about it very often. On the other hand, being a fully fledged cathedral chorister for rather more years than I care to add up, and wardrobe manager to boot, is perhaps a thinly disguised alternative flag that I wave very regularly indeed without noticing........

Tonight’s service at St M’s was a place apart. Faure’s Requiem was the music on offer for All Souls’ Day, and another ‘first’ for our treble choir who joined the regular adult choir for the occasion. And the trebles stepped up to the mark and conjured up a most spectacular ‘Pie Jesu’ for us all. Competently. Spectacularly. Our Director of Music deserved accolades from On High.

But, tho notable, that was far from all we shared this evening. The serving team had paid attention to all the necessary details that most of us are completely unaware of when a good job is accomplished, and the visual gloom that results from too few light bulbs remaining fully operative provided the sort of atmospheric lighting that we generally yearn for at this time of year but rarely quite achieve......

Most seats were occupied in the cathedral, and methinks the shadows were far from empty......

Once again our Chief Pastor demonstrated his liturgical ability by planning and facilitating the whole, and his priestly expertise by dealing quietly, most gently and sensitively with each and every demand of the evening.

This service was undoubtedly One Of Those Times when the step between Here and There was a remarkably small one.....

Intending to Pull The Leg......... but Treading On Toes....

I was out for a little light refreshment after Evensong on Sunday. As One does. If’n you get half a chance.

Anyhow. There we were, chewin’ the fat, watching ‘Countryfile’ (on the inevitable TV screen, thankfully behind me), and generally bletherin’ (as you do in these parts of Northern Britain)........

............and then I became aware of them sittin’ opposite me becoming totally and utterly entranced - had I suddenly gained that tantalising ‘X’ factor for which I’d searched all my life ? .......cor.........how amazin’ ...... how my life will change ! ..................or ........er..............had the programme changed ? - was it maybe – just perhaps - the slinky young things in leather choreographically cavorting around the screen behind me........ ah well, you wins some an’ you loses some, eh.......... an’ – here’s thinking positively – wouldn’t THEY make Evensong a bit different, eh ?

Ah me..........

Anyway, the conversation turned to Young Furryface Bart Catlet, and his Encountering The Hens that very afternoon. “That must have been rather frightening for him” quoth the man in black opposite, “A hen must be an awfully big scary thing when you’re as small as Young Bart.” (Or words to that effect, anyhow).

And, of course, he was absolutely right – but as I thought he knew me fairly well, I confess I thought I’d wind him up a bit. Pull The Leg. Gently. Bit of a joke, an’ a’ tha’........

“Oh, no” sez I blithely – “he’s a BOY – Monster Hens are no problem to BOYS”...........

Now, from my starting point when watching the kitten, that statement was reasonably accurate – young Bart was TOTALLY entranced by these Bossy Birds who were fluffing themselves up to look twice as big as ever they could be, and whereas my ole girlie PoppyCat at the same age would have run a mile, Young Bart, tho certainly a wee trifle wary, was Absolutely All Eyes And Ears And Curiosity..............

OK. I was being a bit naughty......... playing such A High Stake Gender Card quite so ruthlessly after a long Sunday.

I thought he’d rise to the bait all the same. Implying gender issues are – or could ever be - so clear cut is actually so very completely contrary to my understanding and approach to life........... I was so sure such a ridiculously cocky stance would be challenged. Safe bet even. Banter would ensue. A little gentle swordplay.

But I had totally miscalculated .......... well, I probably hadn’t calculated at all, really.

End of conversation. I was sorry for that.

But over these days since, it HAS made me think. About things with which I thought I was not only fairly comfortable, but suitably sensitive. And considerate. I think I was wrong about that too.

For some of us these issues may seem fairly unimportant, magnified by Certain Others out of all proportion, and therefore ripe to bring into play for a bit of a laugh...... but for ‘those others’ these same issues are so very VERY real, and personal, so very relevant and integral to their whole being, that these selfsame issues carry a much MUCH greater importance than may be realised............. I know I have sometimes thought of gender orientation as being like having blue eyes rather than brown, or being tall rather than short (and either of those can be hard enough to come to terms with, trust me) ...... but it’s all rather more personal even than that, isn’t it.............

Old Dog........New Tricks ! (Mr Mutt Medley Pt II)

Poor Mr Mutt really wasn’t sure what to make of this small streak of white and tabby which arrived in his life. He seemed very anxious that he might tread on it, bite it or eat it accidentally. So he retreated to his bed and hoped no one would hassle him too much. TH and ChickPea encouraged him to stay in circulation..... but really...... it was all just too much of a bother.........

And for starters, when Bart was too small to notice, peace and quiet was what Mr Mutt achieved....... until young Bart discovered where the kitchen was to be found........ and that Mr Mutt has a nice soft fleecy thing in the corner of his crate......... and a wonderful waggy tail............

Aye. I can tell you’re ahead of me.

If we lose Bart these days, he’s most likely to be found settled within inches of The Big Bad Dog...........who looks up, a little sheepishly, and ..... kind of smiles...........

Naming the Game

Hello. Two days ago was sunny – one of the most fabulous and sunniest days that Glasgow has seen in a while. A fine day. A glorious day. A Good To Be Alive day. Even, maybe, a “Good To Be Me” day. My thoughts turned to blogging............... an’ I thought it wiz about time I admitted to still being here.

My energies of the last too many months have been somewhat channelled towards seeking employment – and over the last several weeks, devoted to assimilation of the new job requirements.

And are these demanding ? Thank you for asking. Demanding, yes – but not in the “saving lives in ITU” league – Thank Goodness. No one is likely to step prematurely into The Next Realm if I don’t do this job well enough. That Responsibility, Those Jobs are Now Done By Others. Thank Goodness.

I think I’m only just beginning to really recognize the cost involved in carrying such responsibility for so long. When I first took up the reins of the post I remember hoping that I’d recognize when the time arrived to move on.

I loved the people I cared for.......and yes, for me it was right to weep with those who wept and rejoice with those who rejoiced.........and, as a dedicated professional, I learnt to leave each bedside and go refreshed and new to the next, meeting each as an individual needing a unique and considered approach. I loved the staff I worked with........... well, most of them ........being human I met some I found difficult, and one in particular with whom I did not find a satisfying working relationship. This still imparts sadness.

I was totally committed to the requirements of the role. I hated the politics, and as I got older I began to struggle with the hours and energy which were consumed. I think I did recognize something of this – but I couldn’t see a way out.......... or a way forward.......... or sideways, or back, for that matter. It was going to be a difficult process, by whatever path..........

Thank you, BlogVisitor, for visiting, for being around, and sharing something of the rough and smooth of the path which has been involved. The blogging community have been so very supportive – especially over the long weeks and months of unemployment. I would never have expected such kindness and encouragement............. from generous folk from all over the world. Thank you. Thank you so much.

And now – where is ChickPea now ? Ah well, there’s a question............

Two day ago, several times, in fact, in my new administrative post, I was momentarily aware that I was in a good place - the ‘right’ place, and doing the ‘right’ thing............. And it felt Good To Be Alive.

The learning curve involved in the new job continues, and much of the time it still feels as if I am carrying a big pile of dinnerplates while running into the wind across a steep shingle beach with waves crashing and the tide coming in fast....... struggling to keep balance........ and not fall............struggling to keep going............. trying to make progress and gain distance – whilst the tide was getting ever closer..........

But maybe I can look at this differently.........the winds are blowing, yes, and with unpredictable gusts from most unexpected directions...........and tide and waves are close and closing............I guess there’s an element here of ‘storm’ and a disciple losing heart whilst Christ sleeps in the boat..........

A steep shingle beach is certainly not the easiest of surfaces to run across............... but maybe what’s actually happening is that I really am All At Sea - and learning to windsurf............. !

Aha – what would an analyst make of that, then, eh ? A very typical life experience, I guess, but somehow, when it’s the one you’re in yourself, it can be quite difficult stepping back far enough from the wood so that you can see the trees.......... and feel the sunshine on your face again.............

I’m sitting here with the Catlet resting on my left hip and reaching across the keys to both Help n Hinder.

He’s a Fine Fellow, this Bart. He doesn’t fill either of his predecessors’ shoes of course – my beloved white and tabby Judith was a most dedicated CompanionCat, and The PoppyCat too was One In A Million – like each and every one of us. Special, and unique, and totally irreplaceable. And every life has room for at least one more...........

Each day the young Bartholomew grows a bit more in size and stature, and finds new things – real or imaginary – to chase, or challenge, or ambush.........or to snuggle up to.............It may be tall, bipedal and bearing food............ or four legged, black and white, and with Big Teeth.............. BUT ...........Everything Is Fun..........Everything has the potential to Be Great..........and young Bart shows us, time and again, that if you approach it sideways......... and especially if you divert its attention and take charge of it almost Anything CAN be transformed............. ‘dull’ can become ‘shiny’.............. ‘boring’ can be realigned to be ‘exciting’.......... even just a leaf can be THE most EXCITING THING EVER.......... it just All Depends On HOW You Can Take It By Surprise.....

Perspective. Attitude. Imagination. Trust. Focus. Commitment. Enthusiasm. Love. Daring..............

Who would have thought that such a small Catlet-Kitten-Thing could show us so very much in so few weeks?

Maybe there’s more in young BartholoMew’s name than meets the eye, eh?

Life's Rollercoaster........ 20.08.09 (I forgot my password....)

Whee hee ! Yippieeeee ! I gotta job !

- I gotta new job in office administration ! – School cleaning finishes tomorrow, 2 weeks off (with a few days away to try and catch up with myself) – An Auspicious Day – and then start on 8th September ! – whee hee !

Yes – it IS pouring with rain here – The Glums are knocking on the door – the S.A.D. light is on next to me – and Mr Mutt has almost given up hope of getting out for his morning walk......
Wot the heck. This is Great News – an’ I’m going to enjoy every positive moment I can !

Whee hee !!!!!! Yippieeeeeeee !!!!!!

(Meantime – if YOU are currently in the Great Crowd Of Jobseekers, you have my unwavering support and very very best wishes – hang on in there – I’ve been Jobseeking for over a year, and I know just how very very difficult life is when that’s where it is at. Hang on in there. Take heart. Best Wishes).

Ms Mog – R.I.P.

My beloved feline friend died this afternoon. She had lived with me and shared my life for longer than I lived with my own parents. Arriving in my flat as a tiny black kitten, just six weeks old, she could sit on my hand with all four feet and a tidily curled tail – and continued to try and do so for months after she outgrew my palm. She then became a rebellious teenager – and she withdrew bodily contact during daylight hours – objecting with tooth and claw if I transgressed her decision. But in the middle of the night, when her feet got cold, she would creep onto my bed and snuggle close. I had to wait until she was seven years old before she would again allow me to pick her up, or accept a cuddle.

She tolerated TH coming into our lives. He was allergic to cat fur in those days – not a promising start to our new relationship. He had never known any cats, admitted a certain dislike. Tolerance would be a positive achievement between them. But, astonishingly, over the intervening years he has developed tolerance to Ms Mog’s fur – though most other cats will still trigger an allergic reaction. And the initial ‘Tolerance’ became ‘Respect’, and then companionship.

Ms Mog loved moving to this house, with the garden. During the first week, we were breakfasting on the back lawn, and a streak of grey followed by black dashed past our feet – Ms Mog chasing the local squirrel as fast as she could, and faster than she believed possible – we both saw the look in her eyes that said “I hope I don’t catch up with it......”

Today is about three months short of her 20^th birthday – an astonishing lifetime, given that she had twice been rescued from The Brink – about eight years ago and again about four years later. She has been nearing this end point for more than long enough – but each time we asked her The Big Question, she smiled gently, and said “Ok, so I’m old, and a bit creaky, but I’m fine - where’s the food ?” She hated vets – with a pathological hatred which increased as she got older - and she made me promise four years ago that we would not push her on before she was ready to go – she was determined – so determined – to make that decision herself. I got home at lunchtime today, and she was clearly nearing The Time – we would have to Take Steps when TH got home with the car. But though now so drowsy, with her breathing getting irregular, she seemed very comfortable and settled on my lap – but getting colder - so we sat in her beloved conservatory in the sunshine. When this fantastic addition to our house was being built, Miss Mog would creep out every evening and inspect every detail of the day’s progress, and somehow made sure she marked her ownership of the enterprise by leaving her footprints for posterity in the concrete floor.

My wee feisty black feline always loved lying in the sun, and even though she was getting further from us, today was no exception. She relaxed in the sunshine, stretching gently...... and with a wee smile she gently slipped away before TH got home - she evaded The Vet just like she wanted.

Beloved pet. We have missed her so much as she has gradually withdrawn from our lives – she decided to be an Upstairs Cat about three years ago, demanding a waitress service for her meals, and waking us up for cuddles when she felt lonely in the wee sma’ hours. But frail though she had become, her voice was as insistent as ever when she decided it was her suppertime. She was still very much a part of the household, and her presence continually enriched our lives.

Now, at last, she rests in peace, and we must get used to the resultant emptiness.