Among the various things I've been doing with my time during this convalescent period is to begin knitting garments for "fish 'n' chips babies" in Africa.  If you search online you can find out more, and even download a pattern if you fancy giving it a go.  The project began as a response to a terribly sad situation where tiny babies born with HIV/AIDS would be wrapped in newspaper to keep them warm for the very short time they would live.  The wrapping in newspaper, effective, practical and cheap, earned them the name "fish 'n' chips babies".  People, on discovering this, were moved to knit simply garments that would keep these babies warm, and communicate a message of love and worth however short their lives... These would be the only garment the child would ever possess.  Times have moved on, and there are evidently less of these very tiny babies, but the need to for warm clothes remains, and the simple 'jumpers' and 'beannie hats' are gladly received.

As I knitted, I found myself recalling how the two former Liverpool bishops, Warlock and Shepherd, were often referred to as the "fish 'n' chips bishops" - always together and seldom out of the newspapers.  This brought a smile, as I remembered the united walks of witness between the two cathedrals - and the endless singing of "Halle, halle, halle, lu-u-yah" - as a crowd composed of local people, curious onlookers and angry objecters lined the streets.

And then I recalled something else about things that appear in the newspapers... read today, round the fish 'n' chips tomorrow, forgotten the next day.  As one of life's worriers, or at least an over-reflector, I am reninded that I will still be mulling over my actual or perceived failings long after everyone else has forgotten them.  Which is a tad daft, because I never dwell on those I perceive in others.

Nowadays in the UK, fish 'n' chips are wrapped in clean off-white paper, health and safety having long since deemed newspaper too grubby.  Perhaps somewhere in this is a metaphor worth pondering...