I thought I ought to post this one to balance the last one... even if both are really 'against' myself.

This morning I popped into the cafe over the road from church, the propriertors of which have just returned from a fortnight's holiday, cunningly avoiding the ash cloud by flying from Doncaster apparently.

Anyway, they said, 'oh we were talking about you while we were on holiday.'

Ulp, I thought.

'Yes, we were commenting on Leicestershire dialect and how food is called 'snap' '

To which I added, something to the effect of, 'yes, I know, and they also mash tea.  How does anyone mash tea?'

All of which made us laugh... and the other customers probably thought we were mad.  Especially those from the south of England.

Anyway, all went off alright today (even if I was glad I'd been lied to that the slot after us was taken) and I attended the purvey... which of course in Leicestershire would have probably been termed a 'buffy' (pronounced as in Vampire slayer) as the local variant of buffet (as in buffay not buff-et which is what storms do to small boats).  Silly language we use isn't it!!

Is a Gorton-ish word for 'mispronunciation' and is probably of mixed West Midlands and Glaswegian origins.

Today I received an email referring to a 'purvey' which I knew from the context approximated to a 'wake.'  But I wasn't sure how to say the word in this context.  Even though 'purvey' [parts of Scotland] has the same etymology as 'purvey' [the rest of the UK] its pronunciation differs.

Purvey [per-vay] to provide, supply, sell as in 'purveyor of fine comestibles'

Purvey [per-vee] repast provided after a funeral (and sometimes a wedding) as in 'the purvey is at the hotel'

c.f. Pervy [sl.  per-vee] decidedly suspect in ways a minister could not possible know about as in 'that all sounds a bit pervy to me'

Saying 'pervay'got me laughed at (good naturedly)... but is less risky than saying 'per-vee' darn sarf.  'Are you coming to the pervy...?'  I think not!!

No, not reshearsing the sermon, sourcing the giveaways for the all age bit.

As we are twixt Ascension and Pentecost the title for the day is 'waiting for God' and the All Together bit centres on patience.  My bright idea was to buy some 'party favour' ball maze puzzles, so I trotted off to my local card shop to make my purchase.  They had some, which I bought, but only one design - football: no good for my pink-loving girls.  So, several hours (well about three) followed, traipsing around parts of Glasgow in search of said items... supermarkets, pound shops, card shops, party shops, you name it I tried it, before finally finding packs of pink maze games in Sainsbury's at Braehead (the one in Partick didn't).  So lots of patience was needed.

Oh, and be sure if you are a minister there is nowhere you can hide... whenever I shop 'off patch' I meet someone from church and yesterday was no exception!

Probably the moral is not to buy giveaways?  Certainly it was incarnational learning!!

One of the challenges all ministers face is writing addresses for funerals.  Many factors affect this, but it always seems especially tricky when the service takes place at a crematorium and time is very limited.  One consolation in dear old Dibley was that slots were 45 minutes apart which gave you the full 25 minutes you were permitted for the service itself even if there a lot of people to get in and out.  Here slots are 30 minutes apart and there is a tradition known locally as the 'penguin parade' (family greet those who have come) that can easily occupy 5-10 minutes if the funeral is large.  So, allowing for time in and time out, two hymns and a couple of prayers, the tribute and the promise of hope have to be very sparse.  Hence today I have been trying to describe a life in 750 words.

Makes you pause for thought - how would you sum up your own life in 750 words?  Achievements? People? Characteristics?  Faith?  Facts?  Feelings?

Sadly funerals seem to get shorter and shorter, increasingly the deceased doesn't even get to 'attend', and families often worry more about food and flowers than the rite of passage itself.  We need to rediscover the catharsis of real mourning, the strengthening of being reminded of our hope in Christ... that cannot be neatly packaged into 20 minutes and 750 words by anyone.

Courtesy of BUGB e-news sweep, a couple of things to note.

Firstly a blog to look out for - the blog of the BUGB/URC/Methodist Joint Public Issues Team (JPIT) here.  Why BUGB and not BUS?  Well BUS aren't part of CCTBI and haven't quite got their collective brains around ecumenism yet.  Well, that's to say, they haven't formally.  Whether people in BUGB really have is also debatable.  Anyway, worth a look-see if public issues interest you.

Secondly one to coagulate my blood (blood doens't boil irrespective of what the popular saying may suggest)... BBC staff moving to Salford are evidently so stressed they need a clergyman (sic) to help them, here.  Of course moving is stressful, and of course enforced relocation is more so, and it's great that Auntie Beeb is seeking to offer support to people affected.  I just resent the inference that north (of England) is scary, harsh and foreign.  Salford being the city immediately adjacent to Manchester is a place I know a little and Salford Quays is very upwardly mobile.  No doubt many BBC people will afford to live in the leafy south Manchester suburbs or some of the delightful north Cheshire villages.  Hardship?  Hardly!  I feel for those who must up sticks, leaving behind friends and family, and hope the vicar proves a good investment.  But the implicit south-centrism annoys me (just in case you hadn't noticed).  NW England is a friendly, welcoming place to be, so let's hope folk give it a chance...

Lastly my essays have now been posted.  Hurray.  Now I can concentrate on other equally urgent, and far more pastorally significant, tasks.