Keeping a Grip on Hope January 31, 2008

These verses from Lamentations 3 really encouraged me today:

 19-21I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,
   the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed.
I remember it all—oh, how well I remember—
   the feeling of hitting the bottom.
But there’s one other thing I remember,
   and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:

 22-24God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,
   his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.
They’re created new every morning.
   How great your faithfulness!
I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).
   He’s all I’ve got left.

In Anticipation January 30, 2008

I have long known that I’m not very good at waiting for things. I’d prefer for things just to arise suddenly, or for there to be a way to bypass all the waiting anyway.

Waaaaay back in September I booked some tickets to go to Hong Kong. Now, I’m pretty well travelled in Europe these days, but HK one of those pipe dreams you never think will really happen. My friend is teaching out there for a year, but when she invited me out to visit I never imagined it would actually happen… but here we are.

 Things looked a bit wobbly in early January, when my mate had to return to England suddenly. Bless her. But disaster was averted and a couple of weeks ago everything went back on track.

This week I have been doing those pre-holiday things you do, in a kind of daze. Grappling for foreign currency, buying shampoo, wondering what to pack… I realise that to go somewhere with the sole purpose of a holiday is almost unheard of for me, and i’m not really used to anticipating the prospect!

Matched with this, work has been mundane. The joys of stuffing envelopes. This means plenty of thinking time, and plenty of ‘Oh my life this is really happening’ time.

I can’t wait to get there. I think I only realised that today. Six months ago it just seemed like a dream, but now I can’t wait to experience somewhere that is so so different from the surroundings I am used to. I am looking forward to relaxing, and exploring, and being inspired, and eating squirrel.

So I have one more day at work left, so just need to tidy up and sort out a few loose ends. Then the adventure begins!!

Dave January 28, 2008

On the way home from church yesterday, we exuberantly piled onto a bus heading towards Tooting. It was busy with tired shoppers, fractious infants and us, a group of 6 Salvationists plus one pushchair-bound (and also semi-fractious) infant.

In all the noise and chaos, a fair amount of seat swapping took place. We juggled preferring others, mobility needs and proximity to said pushchair. At some point in the proceedings the guy sitting on the double chair next to my single seat shifted his backpack, to make room for the burgeoning crowds. His name, I found out, was Dave.

Unfortunately no-one sat down. I was a little embarrassed that certain members of our group seemingly preferred to stand than to take up his offered seat. So I smiled, acted apologetic, and generally tried to cover over our wholesale rejection of it. I expected that to be the end of the interaction, I expected to retreat back into my thoughts, but it was not to be.

 ”Where’s the Citadel round here then?” Dave ventured, a nod to the fact that we were all, (infant excepted), decked out in the familiar Salvation Army gear. Surprised at his use of lingo I explained briefly where it had been, and that we were borrowing another church due to the rebuilding of the hall.

The conversation flourished, he talked about work, how he was on the way home from a nightshift, travelling from Victoria to Carshalton (an unenviable distance if relying on buses). We then got onto issues of faith – I was amazed and touched by his honesty, and the fact he was so willing to talk.

Dave talked about his life, his dog, recipes involving haddock and mashed potato. He shared his health concerns and his thoughts about religion and action etc.

He commented that it was sad that we no longer talk to each other. That we are all carrying stories and so often we skim over an opportunity to share those with each other and allow them to briefly correlate.

I could see the rest of the group watching this quizzically, watching for signs that I needed rescue, wondering what we were so engrossed in discussing.

I was listening to Dave, feeling quite disturbed, thinking that it would have so easy to have ignored him, to have missed the moment, for him to have spent another two hours on a bus interacting with nobody. I was also feeling privileged, that of all the people in the world who could be hearing his story, it was, at that moment, myself.

He had a lot of respect for the SA, a lot of people do, but he said he missed seeing us out on the streets now. He missed knowing where we were and seeing us talking to people. I think what he missed most of all was talking to people. It was like loneliness emanated from him. I felt a pang of sadness that I was going back to an evening of music videos and pancakes, while he was on his own.

We left him at the corner, he stayed watching cars go by. He’d given me £2 to put in our collection, I left wishing there was more I could have given him, hoping that out conversations about faith would have encouraged him a little.

It reminded me of the responsibility of faith. The responsibility I have not to keep my head down and keep myself to myself. There are people and sitautions that are calling out for our interaction, our comment, our conversation.

I’m praying that Dave does have, or that he finds some people he can love and be in community with. I know that I value it beyond all the physical possessions and passing surroundings I have here. I’m also praying that I will be more vigilant for these occasions, so I won’t miss them when they arise.

Love is the movement January 25, 2008

I’ve been thinking a lot today about love as a motivator. Earlier I ploughed through the 1 Corinthians 13 ‘Love’ chapter.  These are just some of my random thoughts on the topic.

Love? Without measure or boundary, Unconditional? Or love, Based on what I do? Fickle and uncertain, waiting for the moment I trust in it enough to trip me over and laugh as I lay bruised?

Love? Offered freely without asking for a return? Poured out for me? Or love, superficial yet showy, beautifully decorated yet paper thin?

Love? Keeping no record of wrongs? Or compiling a list, whispering back my failures, comparing me to others, reminding me I will never measure up?

Love, doesn’t fly off the handle? Isn’t waiting to kick me when I am down? Isn’t looking for a reason to criticise and condemn? Isn’t negative or controlling?                                            

Love, is not self seeking, waiting there to cash in the reward, call back the favour? Isn’t a vague sense that can be retracted at any point? Is not dependant on external factors to keep it running over?

Really?                                              

I seem to swing from extremes, one moment grasping the magnitude, awed by the truth and grateful for the difference love makes, and then the next forgetting it all and applying the fickle lessons of my experience. Love has changed me from a broken shell, and yet some mornings I wake expecting to damaged and rusty once more.

I’ve been reading a lot about a NP/Charity in America called ‘To Write Love On Her Arms”. I’ve been inspired and challenged and blown away by what I’ve read. You can read the story at http://www.twloha.com/the_story.php

The quote that gets me most is: “We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don’t get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won’t solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we’re called home”.   It gets to me because so often I feel like I’m stuck in the heartbreak and vulnerability, sometimes I forget that there is hope, often I forget about the existence of love.

I guess love is a little bit like energy – some mornings you wake up and you’re inexplicably buzzing with it. Other mornings you lay there flat and apathetic, unable to move, pulling the duvet back up to cover your head. Somedays we think we understand a little of what love is, somedays its like we havent a clue.

hmmmm.

Warfare, Waiting and Writing January 23, 2008

I have commented previously that I am not good at watching films. My concentration moves on too quickly, I ask silly questions, I want to do the imagining myself. I think I struggle with being still for the same reasons.

When I lived in Manchester I learned a lot about contemplative prayer. I read a lot of books, attended some great seminars, pottered around empty abbeys in an attempt to centre myself, but I was always better at learning the theory than putting any of it into practice.

Today, I’m probably worse. I live my life at a frantic pace ( For example, today I travelled to Birmingham and back in an afternoon!), I fill up the gaps in my week. It isn’t that I’m frightened to stop, but just that there are so many worthy things that would seek to fill my time.

I am part of a denomination which champions warfaring prayer and action. The military themes are more than just metaphor, they become a way of life. It’s all ‘Onward Christian soldiers marching as to war.’ If I picture the place of prayer in the Salvation Army, it has previously often surrounded these same themes – pictures of epic battles, troops marching, armour and arrows.

All this action stuff fits in well with how I like to pray, in fact, how I like to live my life. There is action, dastardly dashes into enemy territory to make risky rescues, days spent doing things which to many people would sound as if madness had utterly descended. It’s never boring, and I enjoy the variety and the buzz.

I realise that, for me to engage in prayer fully, a number of factors need to be in place:

- I like a blank canvas. I’m cool with having a topic or people group to cover in prayer, but I like to do it creatively. Give me a bag full of toilet-roll inners and I can come up with a prayer excercise, give me a bullet-pointed prayer list and I feel like I am suffocating.

- I like praying in groups, which are punctuated by the sharing of ideas, mutual dreaming over steaming coffee. There is something that feels quite subversive about sitting praying in Starbucks, surrounded by people discussing the weather and last night’s television.

- Moving and praying is also a good combination. A few weeks ago a small group of us prayed around a local school, and we zoomed around the whole place in 30 minutes. I felt like my intercessory guns were blazing, the short snappy prayers in partnership with being on location really felt natural and I enjoyed every minute.

Thinking about this made me realise that, when I sit down to write, I have a similar list of preferred conditions. These refer to location, purpose, style, timing, and loads of other subconscious things. Often I don’t write because one or more of these conditions aren’t met. I hear myself internally excusing myself and waiting for the perfect writing conditions. Often these simply do not materialise, and I find myself in an intriguing predicament: If I don’t write, if I don’t get my ideas out onto paper it’s like I can feel them physically reverberating in my mind, the words bouncing off the inside of my skull in ill-veiled desperation to escape. It’s then I find myself writing an epic poem instead of my shopping list, or sneaking creative allegory into a piece for work that should be simple prose.

If I don’t write, I begin to feel like a part of me is in restraint.

It strikes me that prayer is the same. Having reeled off a list of my preferred conditions, I am aware that, most often, I am in situations which call for the more mainstream forms of intercession. It is not an option to decide not to pray simply because my preferences are not met. If I don’t pray, I begin to feel the same ‘caged-in’ feeling. I can’t get by without the God-directed communication. I miss my Father’s voice.

One of the things I have become more aware of this year, is the need to build in more disciplined times to write, whether my preferred conditions are in evidence or not. With prayer, I need to do the same.

I could, with hardly any effort, buy many books listing prompts and ideas about what to write. The easiest thing in the world would be to create another (colourful) list of creative prayer excercises to work through in a week, or to work out some more warfarey action plans. Thinking around the area of 24-7 prayer, I could easily drum up some more plans and prayer weeks and teaching seminars…

But I think what God is saying is different to all of that.

Those things are great and valuable, but if I only focus on the warfare, and if I only pray on the rare occasions my preferences are met, I will be slogging away, fighting with dwindling strength. It’s also important to push through and pray in those moments when it feels like the last thing I want to be doing. In the same way, if I treat writing as just another excercise, I will end up with lots of bits of paper which may sound good but will lack any real heart. And If I only write when I feel like it, I won’t have many bits of paper at all!

The thing that first intrigued me about contemplative prayer, about the spiritual disciplines, about downing tools and waiting on God, was the lack of agenda. It wasn’t about praying to get results, but to grow deeper in relationship with God through the process.

A good metaphor that reminds me of this is the difference between writing for publication and writing simply to explore the art. Writing that invites you to plunge into the depths of creativity and swim to the surface tightly clutching a thought, an idea, a sentance that expresses just what you wanted to say. This diving in is surely more important than the approval of a publisher.

I’ve thought of a good project in order to merge all of this together. One of the best magazines I ever read was simply a collection of creative responses to contemplative prayer. I’m thinking about compiling something similar, as I delve into and explore the area of stillness and waiting. I know that this in itself is action, but I am excited to see how writing and prayer interlink in that place of quiet.

This has been a long, stream of consciousness-type post, but I am really intrigued by this stuff. Watch this space I guess!

Grappling with the call January 15, 2008

This is unlikely to be an especially coherent entry. My mind is full of jumbling thoughts and ideas, underpinned by the Still Small Voice whispering that things are not as they seem.

Back at my desk, back in my office, the temptation is to call up as many people as possible and ask them to get involved in 24-7 weeks. I’m pretty certain I could find 52 churches who would do that… it wouldn’t be too much of a task.

This would be the easy route, however, I am painfully aware that this is not what God is asking of us, of me.

We had a word emailed into the office this morning about this journey back into 24-7 prayer. I was especially struck by the following lines:

“I believe God is calling us to wait, be silent and still. In fact as I type I think that if there is to be a launch of 24-7 again there may need to be some changes. Due to the Army’s ‘practical and doing’ character, many 24-7 weeks have become programmes where people ‘do’ a slot and do lots of creative things, especially the youth. I believe there should be an emphasis on stillness, meditation, silence, listening.”

The more I think about it, the more I am hit by the uncomfortable truth that making another year of prayer happen by doing everything we did last time, is simply not what God is saying to us. This time is different, we are a new generation, the land that God is calling us to possess is not the same as it was seven years ago. We are not called to take the wide, familiar path but the one that is narrow, uncertain, the road less travelled.

Filling slots would be easy. As my friend says in the words above, we are well practiced in ‘doing’ prayer. The bit of me that longs for an easy life wishes we could go about it the simple way.

The 2001-2 year of prayer opened amazing doors for us as a denomination. We have seen God do amazing and incredible things as a result of it. My heart swells with excitement as I consider what God could and will do through us this time.

My questions remain though:

• How do we stop this becoming tokenistic? – it’s not just about ‘doing’ 24-7.
• We heard a very definate call about the need for a return to the ancient disciplines – things like silence, solitude, fasting, meditation. How can we ensure that these are woven into the very fabric of 24-7/SA, rather than the active, programmy 24-7 we have become quite used to.
• What are the defining characteristics that God is bringing out of this new push in 24-7 prayer? Are we brave enough to walk into the dark and take the narrow path God is nudging us towards?
• How do continue to walk in partnership with all that has gone before – the older generations, the established prayer centres and leaders that have sprung up since the first year. At the same time, how do we make sure that those who God is calling to carry this thing forward are released and equipped.
• This can’t be just another Salvation Army fad or phase. How do we protect ourselves from publicising this in a way that makes it seem like that.

So that’s a lot of questions, and my sense about the way forward is that God is not going to give us a neat list of hows and whens and actions to take. This thing isn’t about playing 24-7.

I think the weeks ahead will involve a lot of listening to God. A call to sacrifice our ‘good ideas’, in the light of His, which may look pointless or foolish and yet will turn out to be exactly the right way forward. If you have any senses, hunches or revelations about what some of these will be, please feel free to share them with us!

Returning to my picture of the suspension bridge – this renewed call to 24-7 is not about crafting something which looks the part, but it’s about taking a leap into the ravine, into the unknown.

‘Gathering’ my thoughts January 14, 2008

Very often, God does things that surprise and confuse me. Sometimes these things are small and seemingly inconsequential to anyone else – a change of plan, a chance meeting etc. I am thankful for those things.

Sometimes the things God does are much bigger. Sometimes I am left feeling quite shellshocked, wondering at the impact these things will have. Sometimes I think that I should have seen these things coming.

This weekend, at The Gathering in Swanwick, there have been some of those big surprises. Some of those moments when I’ve been afraid to speak out the things I think God is saying, aware of the consequences for me personally, and for the church I belong to.

Two years ago, at the equivalent prayer gathering we held, God gave me a picture of a big bridge that we had been building. It was impressive, it spanned a deep ravine, we were proud of it. In the picture I was following a deer, which led me to look at this place. As I looked, I noticed he was crying as he gazed at the bridge. As the picture went on and the deer looked to me, I knew that instead of bridging the gap, God wanted us to jump into the ravine, to leap into the unknown, to turn from building something that looked good, and to dive deeper into His will. I remember standing sharing this picture, almost in tears, feeling astounded and uncomfortable.

There have been a number of times since then which have been ravine moments. Moments when we have had to chose an uncertain leap over a gleaming bridge. This weekend God called us to another of these.

Seven years ago, the Salvation Army embarked on a year of unbroken, 24-7 prayer. I’m told it was awesome and amazing. Every day I work amongst and hear about some of the fruits of that year. Over the past six months I have had this uncomfortable sense that the 24-7/SA story wasn’t over… that God had more for us to do.

When I went to Seville for the 24-7 Feast, I sat with others, listening intently as the movement was called back to prayer – you can read all about that here:  http://www.24-7prayer.com/cm/content/781 

I had no idea that only three short months later, I would be reeling as our denomination received a similar call. I had no idea that I would have to falteringly utter the sentance, “Erm… I think it’s about 24-7“.

There was the same emotion in my voice as when I shared the ravine picture. The same awareness that what I was saying would be personally costly, that it would spoil my neat plans for the couple of years stretching in front of us. There was also a beating, burning passion and excitment. The same awe that God is asking us to take up this story, and that He and we will be writing a new chapter in it. The same quiet, growing thrill as I anticipated the difference that prayer will continue to make in corps, centres and communities across the uk.

I don’t know what this new phase of 24-7 prayer in the Salvation Army will look like. It feels a bit like God has given us a picture torn from a colouring book – waiting to be filled in and brought alive with colour. Full of potential. I am excited by the clutch of churches who have already committed to joining us in this adventure.

I also can’t wait to hear the stories that are filtering in from others who were at The Gathering, to hear what God has been saying to them and how this will impact their localities. I want to hear the dreams and visions He is whispering to his people at this time. Please share them with us – my email is vicki.adams@salvationarmy.org.uk

The leaflet for The Gathering talked about the spiritual significance of the gatherings of the tribes in the Old Testament. It said that God always did big things and asked for big commitments at these times. We found this to be true as we fought through the driving rain and gathered at Swanwick this weekend, as we came together, worshipped and interceded in unity.

My prayer is that we will hear and heed the call. That we will seek first His face, and join with Him joyfully in this new chapter of the adventure. My prayer is that, accross the uk, revolutionaries will be dreaming and scheming again, waking up to the whisper of His voice. And that we will see transformation as a result.

Serviette Seminars January 12, 2008

I’m writing this from my room at Swanwick (I’m loving the wireless network). I’ve been here since around 2pm yesterday, for the wonder that is The Gathering, our bi-annual prayer conference in the Salvation Army.

About 100 people have gathered from accross the country. Yesterday it was bleak and very wet, and people squelched in a little uncertainly, today things have found a bit more of a groove, we have listened to speakers, worshipped a lot and ran a cycle of seminars.

I spoke on the importance of identity, of knowing who we are in Christ etc. There were about 20 people and it went fine. I was a little amused as I am usually Miss obsessive preparation for these things, and yet I only had some scribbles on the back of a serviette!!

 Later today we have another seminar type thing, and then a ‘Council of War’, which will be a chance to pray into some stuff and listen to God etc.

Tomorrow we have another keynote session, another round of seminars and then we’ll be heading back Londonwards. It’s very odd to know that in 24 hours it will all be over.

I’m not really awake enough to comment any more on things, but will suffice to say that it has been good so far, it has been lovely to meet up with old friends and that I am excited to see what happens next.

Flights of Fantasy January 4, 2008

 *Caution – contains plot spoilers!*

Since Christmas I have spent a lot of time squirrelled away with my nose in a book. For the first week it was the Chronicles of Narnia, as I worked through the box set that I received for Christmas. I loved reading the books, loved the simplicity and complexity, loved the characters and the battles they have to face, loved the metaphor and allegory that is woven through the text.

My favourite had to be, ‘The Voyage of the Dawn Treader’ I enjoyed it so much because it seemed like many stories woven into one. Eustace’s transformation into a dragon and the resulting transformation in his character, Lucy’s battle with the temptation to read a spell that will make her ‘the most beautiful woman on earth’, Reepicheep’s bravery and focus on getting to the lands of the east, etc etc.

I was a little bemused at the end of the books, where it turns out that the children have all been killed in a train crash, but it was more a sadness that the stories had ended than anything else.

After finishing the books I felt quite odd – I had spent every spare minute for a week living in a strange Narnian fantasy world where anything was possible, suddenly I found myself wandering round Wandsworth expecting squirrels to talk and wardrobes to lead to other worlds. It was a little disconcerting.

More pressing was the need to read something else, to get my teeth into a new literary challenge. Before Christmas I had read Philip Pullman’s Northern Lights, book one of the ‘His Dark Materials’ trilogy. I’d read it partly to see what all the furore surrounding the books was about, and partly because I wanted to see how closely the text followed the recent film. I was unsurprised to see they differed vastly, and interested by the plot and characters that Pullman presents.

So, armed with a Waterstones ‘3 for 2′ bargain, I have since been wading my way through the other two books in the trilogy – ‘The Subtle Knife’ and ‘The Amber Spyglass’. I have been pleasantly surprised. In the 2nd book I was impressed with the way Pullman weaves different worlds together, so they run alongside each other, and impressed with the way the plot switches between these worlds. The introduction of Will was a stroke of genius, and the end of the story made me desperate to start book three.

I haven’t been dissapointed so far. I havent got to the end yet but the whole story is building to an impressive climax. I think one of the things I have enjoyed most is that the stories have really made me concentrate. Usually I can read a book in 24 hours, it’s like I can read over the words, assimilate them without very much effort, and sometimes that can make me feel as if I am only skimming the surface of the plot. The complexity of the HDM books, and the detailed plot and characterisation has meant I’ve been reading in a much more focused way, something I have really enjoyed.

The trilogy, and Philip Pullman himself has come under a lot of criticism due to the portrayal of the church that is a key theme throughout the stories. Reading them through, I can see the point of those who would label them as anti-God. In the books, The Authority (Pullman’s characterisation of God) is a repressive, hidden, vengeful creation who would seek to destroy anyone who thinks differently or challenge his ill-gotten superiority. The church is the machinery used to enforce this domination and control.

I havent been overly worried, reading the stories though, because anyone who has ever encountered God (and here I’m talking about the real thing, not the one in the story), will know that He is nothing like the one portrayed in the story. Again and again as I have read the passages and descriptions through I have found myself thinking, “I’m so glad He’s not like that”. I can’t see how the stories would promote or advertise athiesm, because all that comes accross, in my opinion, is a cloudy, doubt-filled, guessing at what is right and wrong, it’s all quite hopeless, and I can’t see how that would be attractive to anyone.

I haven’t got to the end of the story yet, and I know the part where Lyra (one of the main characters) kills god is approaching. I am interested to see whether this changes the way i feel about the stories and the themes within them!

Above all, the books I have read over the last two weeks or so have made me think that I never want to just see things in black and white. I love the way that in fantasy stories, the normal paradigms of rule and logic are stretched, and anything can happen. I think God is like that too – he thinks and acts outside the box, always waiting to surprise us. So they have reminded me to keep an open mind.

Coming up, I have Robert Jordan’s ‘Wheel of Time’ series (which involves 12 and a half books so should keep me going a while), as well as ‘Shadowmancer’ and ‘Tersias’ by GP Taylor. Last year I tried to read 100 books, but I think I only made it to about 85, maybe 2008 will be the year when I finally make triple figures!!

The Sky Is Falling, and other New Years Eve stories… January 2, 2008

As the trailing dregs of 2007 stuttered by, I struggled to the train station for another intrepid cross-country trek. I blinked in bemusement at multitude of people drunk at 11am, and made it to the station on time.

An hour and thirty-two minutes later, I had finished the last of the Narnia books that I’ve been working my way through since Christmas. I felt vaguely sad that I’d completed the series, although I was proud to have done so before the year waned entirely. I loved ‘The Last Battle’, although I was a little confused and had to read bits of it a couple of times before getting my head around what had actually occured.

Safely in the South-East, I dropped off my goods and chattles, drank a hot beverage before travelling to another emporium of haberdashery. My male companions were vaguely horrified by the pink items I nearly puchased, but in the end I came away with a duvet and a couple of small teal cushions. Very sophisticated.

Our next calling point was Wagamamas. If it was going to be the last meal of 2007 it may as well be a good one. And good it was. Teryaki steak, noodles, beansprouts and other unidentifiable ingredients made me glad I had gone for the seasonal special. This was then complimented by the addition of a cheesecake and the appearance of one of my closest friends. We nattered for a while over coffee, later admiring her very special triangular living room.

Later that evening the festivities began in earnest. There were the obligatory tunes (including a couple of strange ’80’s dittys about Red Balloons that I did not understand), breadsticks, pretzels and people nestled in the very huge (though sadly non-triangular)lounge. The group divided in half, with the more vocal types consigned to playing the DVD version of ‘Who wants to be a millionaire’, while the Capitalists amongst us tried out the newly purchased ‘Simpsons’ Monopoly. The latter was good fun, except that monopoly has clearly tried to enter the 21st century with the banishment of paper money, and the addition of credit cards. This was all fine until you added a somewhat beleagured battery and a twelve year old banker into the mix, myself and Lisa Simpson found ourselves losing and gaining $10 millions in the blink of an eye.

The game was soon abandoned as Phil had created Meringue Slop, which involved Meringue (surprisingly), cream, natural yoghurt, pomegranates, blueberries and blackberries. I think it was one of the most random things I had ever tasted, but it was lovely.

 The night was drawing on now, and 11.45pm was heralded by Take That on ITV. Certain sections of the room were mesmerised by this, and we stayed, swaying slightly and mouthing all the lyrics until the fateful moment, “Let’s switch over to the bongs”.

Midnight came, Big Ben did the stuff, the fireworks went on for ages and much celebration ensued. Then we switched back over for more Take That. I was personally thrilled that the last song I heard in 07, and the first in 08 came from their prodigious talent.

The crowd gradually diminished, the phone networks came back online, and we finally crawled into bed around 3am. I lay there feeling glad it was not New Year’s Eve every night!

On New Years day I skipped into the city centre and settled into my starbucks corner… I spent a while chatting to two very lovely south africans, drank coffee and considered the year ahead. It was a useful time. We then traversed to another starbucks, and proceeded to put the world to rights. I then bought the Philip Pullman ‘His Dark Materials’ trilogy, an acquisition which eased my grief at the ending of Narnia. (I have since been ensconced in ‘The Subtle Knife’ it is, quite simply, astounding. I don’t want it to end either).

That afternoon we relaxed and watched, ‘The Shadow in the North’, another Pullman creation, a different genre entirely but a very good plot. Then we all gathered and had tea and Christmas cake in the attic.

The time for heading Londonwards once more was drawing near, but we still had time to watch a large chunk of masonry (well, a plasterboard anyway) fall off the ceiling and land with a crash and a mealstrom of dust. That was a cute addition to the New Year entertainment.

I travelled home, where people were still drunk, although I think that is more acceptable at 11.30pm. Considering the days that had passed I realised it had been a very enjoyable, relaxing and inspiring festive season.  Hurrah!