As I have noted before, the guys who run the coffee shop opposite church have links with Leicestershire, one of them originating only a few miles from Dibley (each was impressed the other knew of the place they'd come from to Glasgow).  Today I opted for the 'square sausage roll' for lunch, a choice which requires you to know where the invisible hyphen goes... there are even Scots to whom they have to explain it is the sausage that is square (Lorne sausage) rather than it being the oxymoron of a square sausage-roll.

After a few minutes the Scotsman delivered my roll and announced 'one lovely healthy square sausage cob,' reflecting the fact that, so I discovered, he had spent 20 years in the Midlands.  I opted not to disabuse him of his assumption that Midland idiom was universally English (in Liverpool it'd be a sausage bap, in St Helens a sausage balm, in Blackburn I suspect a sausage on a teacake*, in Warrington probably a sausage in a bun and in Northampton just a 'sausage roll, no not that sort').

But I liked the fusion cookery and, even if the roll was not a cob, it made me smile and enjoy the thoughtfulness and good humour of my neighbour.

* I used to have a colleague in industry who came from Blackburn who introduced me to the concept of local delicacy known as a 'dab on a teacake' which it transpired was a potato cake/scone served in a bread roll.  Yum....

This seemed to the theme of today's BUGB e-news sweep - the BUGB council discussions on women in ministry and a very thoughtful blog post by David Kerrigan of BMS here, a B&B owner who turned away pre-booked guests because she objected to their relationship, a Christan police organisation feeling it had been snubbed.

I am interested in the BUGB talks not just because I'm a woman and a minister in general, but because my 'story' was one of those told (thankfully not one of the absolute horror stories alluded to by David, though I was once asked how I would fit in my housework and serve a church, and have been chastised for revealing too much knee while preaching!).  I am blessed to have a church who accept me and who also accept those who struggle with women in ministry per se.  A real moment of grace recently was when someone twice my age conceded that I was called to ministry, even if she is perhaps not yet convinced of the general principle.

Tonight's Bible study takes us to the Exodus 1 story of the Hebrew midwives and their civil disobedience born of conviction of divine mandate.  AMong the set questions is one to think of contemproary examples of people who disobeyed out of faith conviction.  All of which sounds fine until I read the article about the guest house and see that one person's conviction is another's idea of injustice.  I certainly don't condone the actions (or apparent attitudes) of the owners, but can see how they could find means of justification from the Exodus 1 story.  All of which shows that nothing is ever easy.  Does God call people to disobey the law?  Yes, we cry, when we think of Martin Luther King. No, we shout, when we hear disagree with the standpoint taken.

To disagree is to be Baptist (I'm sure that's what the dreaded 'Baptist DNA' is really about), to disagree honestly, openly, respectfully and with willingness to be shown wrong, that is.  To show blind prejudice, to be dogmatic, to be rude, inhospitable, callous or offensive is not.

Of course, you may disagree with me, in general, in particular - but if we leap to quick, easy answers and refuse even to listen to that which challenges or offends, we risk emulating that we revile.  I need to listen carefully to myself and remember always that the other person just might be right...

This morning I went into town to go to the bank (there's only one branch of my bank in the whole of Glasgow, so it is always very busy) pick a few bits and bobs and treat myself to lunch out.  Quite a few amusing moments...

I was riding the up escalator in one of the shopping centres and could not help overhearing the conversation of three young men behind me:

Man 1 - I thought youse was afraid of escalators

Man 2 - Aye, I was until I went to Manchester, then I learned how tae do them

Man 3 - Manchester - that's sooo big

Well, Manchester isn't small but I'd lay odds that Glasgow's shopping area is far bigger.

Then I was in a department store, of the very English persuasion, so much so that many of the staff make me, born in London, seem like a northerner.  Anyway, I found what I was looking for - a wooden banana tree - and took it to pay for.  I commented to the woman behind the counter (who was not English) that it was hard to find these items now and that maybe they were going out of fashion.  I was rather bemused by her, totally non-ironic, comment that bananas are exotic!!!

Some people ask me why I love city life, being bemused that I would leave English village life for a big industrial city where 'they talk funny' (they 'talk funny' in the semi-rural Midlands too), but moments like these are part of the delight.  I love the energy and diversity of big cities, the way they are really villages (or clusters of villages) that combine options of anonymity and engagement.  Anyway, now I know that bananas are exotic, I feel I must be very posh indeed to eat them almost daily!!

Someone at church alerted me to this programme - first of a two-parter - on Sunday.  It could well be interesting.  Alas as I will be visiting my sister in Cambridge and probably eating lunch at the time it is on, I will have to settle for 'listen again'.  Thanks V for the tip-off.

... about BUGB Council, then this will undoubtedly enlighten you.  Enjoy!  HT Neil.