Yesterday ended up a busy day... after heading into church and clearing some admin (such as the need to review our extreme weather plan and repsonding to an enquiry on the answerphone) I began work on Sunday's servcies and have about half a draft sermon-type-thing in place.

Next I met with someone for a chat about how they might identify roles they could helpfully - and hopefully enjoyably - fill in church.  It was a good chat, good fun and although we didn't identify an 'answer' it seemed to be positive overall.

Then, after a sandwich, it was time to meet a colleague and head off to the south of the city for a meeting with another professional in a kind of low key pastoral advocacy role.  A really positive meeting, with good outcomes that left us feeling encouraged.

Back into town, and time to discuss worship plans for the next few months... a creative and energising time that drifted naturally into some sparky fund-raising ideas for our major project.

A lovely treat of tea out with a friend (and the discovery that I like Greek olives!  I've never liked olives but every couple of years will try one to see if my taste has changed.... and it had!) which was lovely - good food and great conversation.

Then it was back out to the "Owners & Residents AGM" and the more mundane matters of repairs to lifts, when to get the external doors painted and whether or not call in environmental health to deal with the pigeons!!  Fortunately it's all pretty good humoured and there are clear guidelines for approving such works.

Today is no less busy, but very differently focussed... hopefully another fun day in prospect.

The sad news of the death from metastatic colon cancer of actress Lynda Bellingham seems to have become accompanied by the usual phrases about 'losing her battle'.  If she or her family used that language (I have no idea whether they did) then I respect that, but it really isn't a helpful expression.

Did she lose?  No, I don't think she did.  She faced, and made, some tough treatment choices, allowed her story to be told, and then died in the arms of her husband, having lived her life as fully as she could for as long as she could.

Was it a battle?  Here I may depart from some people directly affected by cancer, but I really dislike the 'battle' language (and posted about that during my own treatment).  How is it a 'battle' when it is with/against our own bodies?  How is it a fight against some perceived enemy, when this is 'flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone', albeit gone awry, become unhealthily immortal...?

I continue to prefer the 'journey' metaphor which moves away from 'winning and losing' language and gives permission to those who choose different treatment (or non-treatment) paths to find the own way through.  If a journey concludes in death, it is not a failure, any more than if it conlcudes in remission or (in some cases and some types of cancer) cure it is a success.  This is not a wishy-washy alternative - journey does not mean 'stroll in the park', it may include 'valleys as dark as death', it may require near impossible ascents or descents; it may mean torrential rain and howling gales... but it means that what's right for me is right for me, and what's right for you is right for you.  It means no one does 'better' or 'worse' just different.  It means that the person who dies has not 'lost', has not some how 'failed' or been 'defeated', rather it acknowledges a destination from an unchosen journey, travelled with courage, humour, determination (or any other mentions or attitudes) has been reached.  It does not deny or belittle the reality of loss, but it does free everyone from the potential for guilt, blame or regret.

Rest in peace, Lynda Bellingham, you travelled your journey with courage and tenacity, encouraging and reassuring others along your way.

Oh, and of course if you are 50+ and live in Scotland, or 60+ and live in England, Northern Ireland or Wales, then please, please, please do the bowel sreening... it may be 'poopy' but it might save you travelling one unwanted journey...

Way back in the 1970s we used to take turns in going to town to assist with the family shop... that could mean dragging the shopping trolley, or it could mean carrying paper or plastic carriers purchased from the shop at 5p a go.  Given that a pint of milk cost 5p, the carrier bags were not exactly cheap.

Then it all got stupidly competitive and the price of carrier bags fell lower and lower, until it was abolished and you simply grab as many bags as you wished at the check-out. 

We realised that wasn't quite so green after all, and so the quantity of recycle plastic or paper used to make them increased.  Thin, poor quality plastic bags abounded and then, over time they did improve again.

In the 1990s 'smart box' shopping was the new big thing.  I still have my five smart boxes, complete with lids purchased for an extra £1 or so!  Safeway (remember them?) Sainsbury's and Tesco all invested in this greener, quicker approach where you could put stuff straight into a tough plastic box, plonk it in your car and save time (especially in those stores with self-scan options).  You needed special trolleys to use the boxes and it never really caught on.

Next was bags for life - pay 10p for a strong plastic carrier bag and we'll give you a new one when it wears out.  I did actually wear out a few, but as often as not I ended up buying new ones because I felt bad using a not-so-green free bag if I didn't have enough reusable bags with me!  One of my smart boxes is full of bags for life!!

Then it was the hessian bags, the jute bags, the specially deisgned bottle bags, the cooler bags, the foldable put it in your handbag bags... I have them all (and others!) in my kitchen!

So now we've gone full circle.  From today in Scotland (already done in Wales and Northern Ireland, and to follow soon in England) you have to pay 5p if you want a supermarket bag - strong, re-usable 1970s style bags are back!

As for me, I almost always have a cotton bag squished up in my pocket, and have used my own bags at supermarkets since the demise of smart box trolleys.  I've also just ordered myself a pull-along shopping trolley for bigger shopping trips... plus ca change, plus le meme chose!

It was meant to be a multi-voiced reflection, except that, of the three readers appointed, only one was there, so I had to adjust on the hoof to read four out of five sections myself.

A telling of the Joseph tale from Reuben's perspective, three examples stories on human trafficking, and the parable of the lost son as experienced by the older brother.

It was an interesting experiment - not sure it quite worked, though the feedback was generous.

I think my best line was "I don't really exist, I'm just a figment of Jesus' imagination" at the start of the older brother's story.

Some interesting things to ponder from the ways that Reuben and the Nameless Older Brother responded to events...

#FreedomSunday marked and hopefully some thoughts provoked.

On Thursday I had a phone call from my bank, alerting me to suspicious activity on my debit card... it turned out that there were three fraudulent transactions, only one successful, and fortunately only for a relatively small sum of money, which was refunded straight way.  I had two made online payments using the card that were also stopped but, thankfully, as I have a second current account with a debit card (Jewish roots run deep!) I was able to pay for them with the second card.  But I don't know the PIN for the second card, it is very much a back-up, fall-back, last resort account (so not so Jewish after all!) and its balance is kept fairly low (around a month's money) so I couldn't simply get cash from that one.

My main bank were extremely helpful, and said if I needed to get cash all I had to do was pop into a branch... but the only one in Glasgow is in the centre of town, so a not insignificant undertaking.

Instead, I decided that I would eke out such cash as I had until the new card arrived (which I'd assumed would be early next week).  It was a healthy reminder of what it means to be restricted to cash payments and not to be able to get cash from any convenient 'hole in the wall'.  It meant thinking what I could afford to have for lunch if I was to have enough cash left for paying the cafe bill at a scheduled meet later on where it was my turn...  It meant that nipping into the shop to buy milk meant just that...  It meant that when I fancied a treat yesterday afternoon, I didn't get one because I deemed what was on offer too dear...

Every now and then people do this 'live on £1 a day' type thingy knowing fine well they have cupboards groaning with food and a credit or debit card in their pocket.  Actually being stymied for a day or three was a far more salutory experience.

My new card arrived today, and all is well... I hope, though, that I have maybe learned something that won't fade from memory so quickly.