I was attracted to this novel out of a sense of nostalgia for the not so long ago days when I used to walk through Rushlome's Curry Mile regularly.  I liked the cover with its montage of familiar signage and the references to places I knew - from Hulme Arch to Cheadle Hulme.

Its critics describe it as an important novel in exploring the world of British-Asian young people as they establish their own identity.

The plot line was not, in my view, the strongest I've ever met, but the resolution was satisfactory and, being in terms of some sort of reconciliation between cultures and generations, almost a 'coming of age' novel - if these ever move beyond equating 'coming of age' with 'sexual awakening' (this was a given at the start of the story!).

Quite an easy read, and if you want a glimpse an Asian woman writing about Curry Culture worth the price at ~£7.95 in book shops (less from Amazon).

For something utterly different - and I understand about to made into a film, 'Atonement' is a prize winning novel that plays tricks with the reader.  I almost saw through it at one point when something didn't stack up, but what I took for shoddy research was actually all part of the cunning.  Unless you read to the end, it isn't a spectacular a story - but that is all part of it.

I hope the film version does not reduce this story to something like the 'Titanic' of the late 1990's, which I found utterly predictable.  As with the Curry Mile, it is a pretty easy read, and despite its oh so theologacal title uses the word 'atonement' in a pretty general (non-theologically speaking!) way.  Again, sells at about £7.99

Anyone want to suggest anything else?

One of the occupational hazards of being a minister can be living next to the church.  During the first year I lived here, people would call to be let in because they'd forgotten their keys or to 'borrow' anything from cornflour (I jest not) to my long-arm stapler because either there wasn't any or the church one was broken.  My hoover got used when the church one died, and I'm sure I supplied a fair few loo rolls and Jeye-cloths (other brands are available).

After the building closed, I took on cutting the grass for the remainder of that season, and often had a wry smile to myself when someone commented that 'Jim (not his real name) has been down I see.'  I also have a cupboard under the stairs full of hymnbooks, green and red, an OHP, a dozen collection bowls and all manner of weird objects that we must keep but no one else will store.

For the last two years I have acted as caretaker, letting in contractors to remove, disconnect or whatever, various services and items.

Now I act as security guard!  Tonight I've turfed off a group of about 10 lads smoking in the alleyway between the manse and the church.  Fortunately this is Dibley, and the threat of the police was enough to make them go away mumbling 'sorry, me duck' as they went.  Obviously I got tough living in Manchester - either that or my Little Miss Bossy face is very, very, scary (certain people are banned from commenting on that!).

I can laugh about it, and I was satisfied that I was safe enough, but it's hardly in the job description is it?

Why didn't I phone the Police?  Well it hardly justified a 999 call and the non-urgent response time round here is about an hour.  What will I do next time?  I guess it depends what time it is, whether or not it's light and how drunk they sound.  Maybe I just need to go armed with a pile of scary tracts...?!

In the meantime, I'll continue praying that the building gets sold soon.

This picture is how I feel, even if I bear no resemblance (beyond the glasses) to the person in it.

Writing my literature review is taking way longer than I feared and I now need to make some 'swingeing cuts' to get anywhere near the word limit.

I guess my problem is that I have only two ways of expressing myself (i) consise (ii) extremely and unashamedly verbose.  I could write the whole thing in a dozen sentences or I could write it in an epic.  In between is tricky.

So, I'm going to be a good girl and try to take a break from blogging until I have a complete draft - course I might need a distraction now and then... 

Loyal readers will be used to the endless references to my essay - still in the writing, still loads to do to get a first draft and already w-a-y too long.  I keep typing away, cutting out the adjectives, rephrasing the sentences to get less words in them and think, well, hey, I might get it down to 12k if it says not a lot at all about anything. 

Then I check the university requirements: 2 copies, single sided, double spaced, wide margins.  I do understand the logic: two markers, space to write comments (if they're allowed to now, for a while they weren't) big enough writing for them to read without their microscopes etc, etc.  It just isn't very green.  My 1.5 line spacing draft is over 60 pages already (OK so it includes some diagrams and it'll come down a bit after editting) - that's a lot of paper one way and another.  If the final version is a mere 50 sides, that's still one heck of a lot of paper and just not very, well, green.

Rain, rain go away, come again another day, you can't won't stop us celebrating, God's precious Holy Spirit (after the style of, and even less profound than 'Wind, wind, blow on me', which we sang today).

We had fun - about 60 of us - celebrating, singing, listening, watching, tasting, smelling and worshipping.

Despite my worse fears, it did not deteriorate into a circus with so many participants - I think my folk are now well trained to move during hymns or look out for a nod rather than waiting to be announced, and the musicians swapped round quite efficiently.

I know not everyone will have enjoyed every part of the service, but I hope they went away encouraged that in God's sight they are precious, that God is always with them and that God inspires them to share the good news in a language (of speech or action) that others can understand.

It was good to have young people leading some of the singing (interesting combination of piano accordian and saxophone plus percussion) as well as the Methodist worship band (guitar, flute and organ) and some traditional organ music too.  It was good to have the vicar's mini-expository sermon on Ezekiel to balance my talk on balloons and candles (and chocolate!).  It was good to have some liturgy and some extempore prayer.  It was good to have drama and a 'join in please' activity. In short, it was less Babel and more Pentecost, less uniformity and more unity, less denominations working together and more Church in diverse expressions.

As I packed away the left overs, I found myself pondering the enormous journey we've travelled in three and a half years and the grace of God that has permeated even my ham-fisted and sometimes downright bizarre attempts to guide my folk along the way.

It is still raining here in Dibley, but we celebrated, and that seems good.