A Glorious Day in the Country

On Saturday, we went with David and Julia to the Lake District. Julia had been given a gift card voucher entitling her to tea for two, so we had tea for four and split the difference.

The tea was at the Samling, one of the posh hotels in Windermere, on the banks of the Lake.

The hotel sits on 67 acres, a number of which were done up in formal gardens, fun to explore, with all the little niches and pools and gazebos. I finally learned the name of that dark purple flowering plant; it has long clusters of tiny blossoms, like lilacs, but darker and longer. It’s Buddleia or buddleja, the Buttefly Bush.

Another plant we saw there had leaves bigger than I ever thought could exist. The leaves, as nearly as I could estimate, were at least four feet in diameter, and many were six feet! We had no idea what these plants were, but the undersides of the leaves were full of thorns, arranged along each vein. They were truly like some Disneyworld fantasy!




Tea Table

 


Samling Hotel





View from our Table




David



Demetrios, Anastasia, Julia in Garden

Tea was high tea, an entire meal of sandwiches (ham, cucumber, egg mayo, salmon), scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam, and an assortment of other sweets, more than any of us could eat. As it was a perfect day, bright and warm, no humidity, we ate outside on the terrace. The sky was a different blue than I could ever remember having seen before, a sweet, tender color; and the pastures and hedgerows –English greenery has the same hues we have in America, and indeed the same shades and tints, but what’s different is the saturation. The English greens are more vivid than ours, as if God, when He came to the making of England, had used double-strength dye. The sheep were grazing peacefully in the meadows, a dozen small sailboats were crossing the sparkling water, and the whole effect was of living inside a picture postcard.

To add icing to the already-iced caked, an air show was in progress over Lake Windermere. It was fun to watch the acrobatics, the designs left by the trails of smoke in the sky, and the World War II vintage planes passing over, fighters and bombers. Spitfires, David said, and Lancasters.

I’ve now been to quite a few places, from the tropics to the far north, from as far west as Hawaii and as far east as eastern Greece, and I have to tell you that absolutely nowhere I’ve seen is more beautiful than the English countryside on a glorious day.

It’s of course the “glorious day” bit that’s the kicker. Last week I was in the post office when the clerk there asked did I live in Ormskirk, and I said yes, but seasonally, only for the summer. He looked around, peered out the window at the dark clouds and sharp breeze, shrugged his shoulders, spread out his hands and said, “Welcome to our ‘summer!’”

And last Sunday, when I told a Liverpool taxi driver the same thing, I added (to forestall a remark similar to the man’s in the post office), “We’re lucky this year. The summer has been drier than last year.” His immediate come-back was, “It in’t over yet!”

It’s still like early Spring here. The sunshine, when we have it, is warm (not hot) and the breeze, which we always have, is downright cold.

Why do the English so like discussing the weather? Because they have so much of it!

But truly Saturday was one of those heavenly days that makes all the gray ones worth it. Even more satisfying is that we took full advantage of it, with good company, good food, and being outdoors.

Life in Ormskirk

Forgot to tell you about James' 30th birthday on 9 July.  (James is Demetrios' godson.)  His parents, David and Julia, and his girlfriend, Kim, threw him a surprise party.  That is, he knew Demetrios and I were coming, but he didn't know anyone else was.  He was particularly annoyed that his brother, Nick, had texted him that he had gone back to Chester, where he lives, and might not come for the birthday dinner. 

He did, of course.  There were about 20 of his friends and relatives and Kim's friends.  Julia and David did most of the work, the cooking and so forth.  It was a glorious day, so we were able to have the party in the garden, and it was all lovely, especially meeting the people, young and old (and very, very young, as in infants).  One of the babies, little Alfie, fell asleep in my arms, much to my delight - and his mother's, I think.

We've also had Agnes from next door, and her sister Anna, here to tea, and that was also very enjoyable, as they are both good conversationalists.   Agnes and I had gone out to tea the day before at one of her favorite local eateries, called The Farm. 

Sunday after church we met some new friends and reconnected with some from last year and all had lunch together afterward, six of us. 

I've finished another blanket for a premature baby, to be given to the hospital, and have now begun an Angel's Pocket, a burial outfit, basically, for a baby who doesn't survive.  Hope to knit several of those.  Am also working on a lace shawl for myself from a pattern I reversed-engineered form a crummy photograph on the Internet.  I love it.  (To see it, look here and scroll down to page 24, Appendix 5, Ukraininan Lace.  It's the righthand photo.)

The Penal Substitution theory of atonement came up in BOTH my Bible study groups last week.  I'm glad to say Anglicans don't much go for it, at least not in any big or insistent way.  The only question that arose from the discussion was the usual, 'Then why did Jesus die?' and the Orthodox explanations were received with openness and appreciation.  If you're new to this blog and interested in that topic, type 'Why Did Jesus Die' in the search box, near the top right corner of this page.

We had Claudia and David to dinner on Saturday.  Claudia is the one from whom we purchased our flat.  She and David are wonderful people, and I'm pleased to report that they arrived at 1 p.m. and stayed until 8. 

So many more people we want to have over, and so little time!  We've been so remiss so far, so lazy.  Well, catching up is going to be a lot of fun, anyway.

Our bathroom is repaired.  following my fall, I discovered several big, bright blue and black spots on my upper right arm, but nothing feels sore or hurt, so...

Rugby games are starting up again, very near our flat, Fridays nights.  We're hoping to attend some of them.

Schoolchildren finishing up this week, at last, and beginning their summer break. 

Tomorrow night we'll attend the concert of the Rainford Band with Julia and David, and then Saturday we're going to tea in the Lake District.

Just Checking In...

...so you know we're still having great fun doing very little!

I took another fall a few days ago, but am entirely unhurt in any way, lucky me.  I lost my balance in the shower (don't ask) and fell in slow motion, having grabbed the shower curtain.  I did have the presence of mind to let go the hand-held shower in time to keep it from ripping out of the wall.  Ended up looking quite ridiculous, at right angles to the tub, my back on the carpet, my knees over the side of the tub, with the shower curtain on top of me.  Well, it gave me a good laugh, anyway. 

As the medicine cabinet we put up so inexpertly last year has also come down under the weight of all the toiletries in it, our bathroom looks a proper wreck now; we're having a man come in on Saturday to get it back in oder.

I was lazing around in my robe the other day, not even having combed my hair or washed my face, and was knitting, thinking in another half hour I'd get around to being civilized, when the buzzer rang, the intercom at the outside door.  It was a neighbor who asked if she could speak to me a moment, so fearing some sort of urgent problem, I let her in.  She had just come to meet me!  Her name is Agnes and she's ever so nice.  Eighty-some years old, and has an older sister living in our apratment block as well.

Anyway, she invited us to tea in her flat, and yesterday was the day.  Her sister Anna came, too.

Agnes had done her homework!  She has a small bookcase in her living room, but it seems to be full of all sorts of reference books.  Agnes had looked up Richmond, Virginia in her atlas, and had looked up "Anastasia" in her book of saints' names and had found my saint, the Roman matron, the Pharmacolytria, and had read about her life.  Now I think that's impressive!

We're all going out to lunch one day soon at their favorite area restaurant.  I just need to fix the day.

I've now met enough people that once in a while one of them calls out to me in the street, and I do the same.  Now that's fun!  You begin to feel a part of town life.

Because we were here on Sunday afternoon (for a change), I discovered that there's a concert in Coronation Park's bandstand every Sunday afternoon.  I had assumed it would all be rock bands, but not so.  This was a more varied band, and I enjoyed them very much.  The final number was, of course, "God Save the Queen," and I am either pleased or sorry to report that I was the first one to my feet and the only one to sing the words.  To the tune, you know, of "My Country, 'Tis of Thee".

Elias came for lunch yesterday and for a special treat, brought his elder daughter with him, Maria, whom we haven't seen since last year.  I love cooking for him as he so obviously loves eating it. 

And that's the news from Lake Woebegone Ormskirk.

A Wonderful Sunday

After church in Liverpool on Sunday, we went for coffee with our dear friend Elias, and as we climbed out of his car and were about to walk toward the cafe, we heard drums.  The drumbeat was loud and quite fierce, coming from about a block or so away.  I ran to the corner in time to see the parade approach; several drummers, drumming most aggressively, followed by a dozen or so hand-held accordions.  What was this?  What was the occasion?

Then my question was answered, for behind the accordions came schoolchildren, and each of them was wearing an orange sash over his or her shoulder.  Orangemen.  Named after William of Orange, the Dutchman who became King in 1688, the Orange Order is that (in)famous Irish Protestant fraternity, supporters of English rule in Ireland, and you've probably heard of their provocative annual marches. 

As this band passed another intersection, another contingent emerged from the side street and joined them, doubling their ranks. And where were they going? Straight toward the Catholic Cathedral, two more blocks away.

Metropolitan Cathedral of Christ the King (Catholic), Liverpool

I was appalled . Appalled to witness firsthand the sectarian hatreds being passed down to these small children. As Demetrios put it, "Here are people who violated another country and are still proud of it."

And  then again, I was also thrilled because it seemed to me a history book had been opened and I had stepped right into it. 1795 is when the Orange Order was founded.

We stood there on the corner gaping for a few more moments, then decided this might be a very good time not to stay around, so into our coffee shop we went and spent an hour greatly enjoying one another's company.

Elias had to leave to sing at a 3:00 wedding back at the church, so we left when he did, and thought this might be the day to have a look at the inside of "St. Paddy's Wigwam," as Catholics (and others sometimes call their Cathedral.

There are 56 steps to climb to reach the Cathedral's main door, but we didn't find it difficult.  I suppose we've become stronger from all the walking we do here, plus I weigh a lot less than I used to, so we managed without any ado. 

This is a building you either love or hate.  I did not love it.  Demetrios said he thought it would make a lovely concert hall, but I didn't think so. 

Around the circular nave are four towers, nicknamed John, George, Paul, and Ringo, after the Four Evangelists Beatles.

There are 16 steel girders in a circle, sloping inward to form a conical roof, and poking out of the dome meant to look like not a teepee but a Crown of Thorns.  The inside ceiling has more girders in concentric rings.  My feeling of sitting inside a spider web was accentuated by the gigantic chandelier, a tangled mess, just like the stained glass dome above.

The blue narrow panels of blue glass either side of each girder did not help, as they gave the nave a cold look.

The chancel is a circle elevated 2 steps from the main floor, and the high altar, in a smaller circle elevated 3 more steps. (The bishop's easy chair, center background in this photo, is elevated 6 steps.) As the altar sits on a circular platform, it can of course face any direction; it faces northwest.

The altar is of white marble, and I can think of nothing that looks colder than white marble in blue light.

There is a Lady Chapel, and it has more agreeable lumination. Its focal point is a wall-mounted sculpture of Madonna and Child. Little Jesus is tucked between his mother’s legs, she straddling Him, and He just fits, with never a millimeter to spare. The odd impression thereby created is of a woman giving birth to a toddler tiddler.

There are numerous other chapels around the circumference of the nave, some of them more agreeable, most not, in my opinion.  The Reconciliation Chapel, for confessions, has narrow glass windows all in scarlet. I suppose the symbolism is of the Blood of Christ, which although appropriate theologically, is an aesthetic disaster.

All the art is very modern, meaning most of it is deliberately ugly. Even the statues are Picasso-esque, notably one of Abraham freeing the ram from the bush, which yuo can see here.

Evening Prayer was in progress as we entered the Cathedral, and it was interesting to note that in England, Catholic chant sounds very much like Anglican. That's to say it was lovely.

When the service was over, we were freer to wander around, and as we were walking from one side chapel to another, a woman’s voice addressed Demetrios: “In profile, you look just like the Duke of Edinburgh!”

“Same sort of dress code, too,” a man’s voice added.

“I’d have to be taller and thinner, though,” Demetrios said, laughing.

And that’s how we met Susan and Brian, two lovely people about our own age. They aren’t married but are good friends.

“Well, The Duke of Edinburgh is Greek, you know,” I said, “So I thought I’d follow her example and marry a Greek myself!” (WHY do they spell it Edinburgh but pronounce it Edinburra?)

“Oh, you’re Greek!” said Brian to Demetrios. “Kyrie, eleison!” He shrugged. “That’s all the Greek I know, but it pretty well sums it all up, doesn’t it?”

Well, I rather think it does.

Brian wondered whether we knew of the Greek Church not far away, and we said yes, that’s our church. Susan said she’d like to visit it. And then, of course, as they were Catholic, we began discussing the prospects of unity.

They felt it was mostly a matter of perspective, of people looking at the same things from different vantage points. Demetrios said the issues really were doctrinal, and it was terribly important to get the doctrine right. If you get the doctrine of God wrong, you’ll also get the doctrine of man wrong, as man is created in God’s image; and you’ll mess up the relationship between God and man, as well.

Anyway, at Susan’s suggestion, we ended up exchanging contact information, and as we liked them very much, we intend to follow through on it, too.

Finishing our tour of the Cathedral, Demetrios wasn’t ready to go home yet; it was too glorious a day to be indoors. So, having discovered our train ticket to Liverpool enables us to go anywhere on the Northern Line, and can be used all day long, we decided to go to Birkdale. Last year we drove through a part of it that contained some big and beautiful houses, and Demetrios was hoping to find them again.

It was evening before we arrived in Birkdale, though, and we were more tired than we had expected to be. So we thought we’d have a little supper first. We passed a pub, but nobody there seemed to be eating, only drinking. Then we found a restaurant, but it looked very expensive, too posh for our inclination this time. Demetrios embarrassed a couple of the locals by asking where the town center was, with cafes and pubs; the answer was, this is it.

Eventually we found the Park Hotel, the ground floor of which is a pub serving food all day. Demetrios had a burger and I had fish and chips. And then we simply returned to the train station and came home, exhausted and happy.

No News is Good News

Thursday, 23 June

Hard to believe June is nearly gone already!  We've been lucky about the weather; it's been drier than last year, sunny most days, but still cold.  There hasn't been a single day I would venture outdoors without a sweater or jacket.  We are enjoying the long hours of night, too, although with the solstice just past, those hours will decline sharply now.

We go to bed when we're tired and get up when we wake up.  We eat when we're hungry and go out when the weather is nice.

Demetrios is hard at work on his book and I've been typing (and debating) it with him.  The debating part is very difficult because for some reason, I become very emotional about it.  I suppose I want it to be so perfect, and am frequently disappointed.  Hard to explain how something so crystal clear in his mind (and indeed, in his writing, once he takes an hour or two to explain it) comes out as gobbledegook to everyone else.  He has drawn some illustrations, though, and written some more, and drawn some diagrams and compiled a glossary of terns, so his meaning ought to be more understandable now.  It's an extremely difficult subject to begin with, which may be why nobody else has done it.

I've been concentrating on the charity knitting, and have finished a darling blanket with matching cap for a girl preemie.  Am having fun planning what to do next. 

We've continued attending the Tuesday night Bible study, although it didn't meet this week, and I'm still enjoying the Knit 'n Natter group at the OPC (Ormskirk Parish Church).

New friends?  Well, we met a very nice Ukrainian woman at church Sunday.  Her name is Valentina, and she's here studying finance at Liverpool, commuting between here and Dublin, where her husband and children are. 

We reconnected with Zisis, the dapper young lad who is taking his master's degree in shipping, who introduced us to his friend, another grad student named Maria.  Zisis has found a job since we last saw him; he works at what he says is the best clothing store in Liverpool.  Meanwhile, he's still looking for something in his own field.

Diana, the lady we met at Liverpool Cathedral, writes that her house is surrounded by scaffolding; new windows, new doors, and a new roof are all being installed.  So she can't come for tea just yet, but hopes to when the construction work is done. 

Our dear Elias came for lunch yesterday.  He's someone you just feel you've known all your life and we had two hours of delightful communing.  He didn't pass the big exam he took on Monday, so will have to re-take it at the end of August, so we may not see as much of him as we'd like. 

David and Julia and their son Nick are off in Vienna with her cousin Robbie.  Before that, last weekend Julia and her friend Sue went to the Royal Ascot.  We are eager to hear them tell us of both places. 

And that's it.  Nothing earth-shaking.  And not a single theological thought in my head just now.  But we're enjoying it all enormously. 

Living in Ormskirk, Part 04

Wednesday, 15 June

I don’t quite know how to explain how it is that for us, just being here in Ormskirk is so much fun. Part of it is, there’s always something to do, if only to watch the bird life on the pond in Coronation Park – or go to have tea in some coffee house and watch the world go by, as we do most afternoons. Then on Thursdays and Saturdays are the markets, and they’re fun to poke through. Last week we found me two leather purses and bargained with the vendor, who sold them to us for six pounds each, slightly less than they’re worth. We also found some blond nesting tables, which we’ve needed from the beginning, and a gorgeous vase. (This week I’ll look for silk flowers to put in it.)

Monday I went again to the Bible study/knitting group again, at the nearby Anglican church. On my way there, I noticed a woman stopped at the corner, who turned out to be one of the knitters, Pam, who and recognized me and was waiting for me. Met two more ladies, as well – and again, I only completed two rows the entire time!

It was Ann’s (the curate’s) last time with the group, as she is moving away to Wigan to pastor two parishes there. We will miss her! (We do not need to believe in ordaining women to recognize that they can be as good as men at many ministries.) The parish has two new curates now, the just-ordained Stuart and Linda. (Stuart’s blog is here.)

Tuesday evening, we went to the Bible study at Stuart and Angela’s house. They are still on a high from his ordination, and both quite tired, too. We made it a short evening. We are studying the book of Ezekiel.

Today we have just received a note from the wonderful lady beside whom we sat at the ordinations on Sunday, the one we were afraid we’d never hear of again. I’m going to quote her entire note, because it made us laugh a lot: First, so you’ll understand what she says, I should tell you the at the ordination service, it was deacon reading the Gospel, but the person acting in the role of deacon was actually the Dean of Liverpool, soon to become Bishop of Durham. (Did you know that technically, the one who appoints the bishops of the Church of England is the Queen?)  Diana writes:

I have marvelous story to tell!: —

Liverpool Cathedral was full! The Dean was reading the Gospel, by the PASCAL CANDLE, at the Ordination Service. HORRORS, -- the candle top came apart and a flame fell down into the flowers and a small fire started, near the hem of the Bishop of Durham’s – sorry, not yet – the Dean of Liverpool’s shimmering garment. What to do? Everyone froze!

What happened? Why ask!

An American lady, cool as you like, stepped up and put out the fire – one footed!!! (It was the same in the 1939-45 war.) (Except it was the whole country)

It reminds me of a joke. There was a shipwreck. 2 Scottish men, 2 Welshmen, 2 Irishmen and 2 English men were washed ashore. What to do? The Scottish men wanted to start a distillery, the Welsh men wanted a choir, the Irish men started to fight and the Englishmen waited to be introduced!!

Have fun!

– affectionately,

You see?  She’s full of beans, as they say here, a real character, and we plan to invite her to tea somewhere in Liverpool, as that is where she lives. And we greatly look forward to knowing her better.

PENTECOST, In Which Stuart is Ordained…

…and I Single-handedly Save Liverpool Cathedral and Everyone in It

Well, that last is an exaggeration. Okay, so it’s a wild exaggeration; nobody, apart from the deacon, was ever in any real danger.

What happened is, we attended the ordination of our friend and neighbor, Stuart, with 13 others, at (the Anglican) Liverpool Cathedral, and it came time for the reading of the Gospel. So the richly-attired deacon came down the center aisle as far as the cross aisle, where Demetrios and I were, and where the Paschal Candle was set on a stand taller than the deacon himself. And just as the deacon had finished the Gospel Lesson, and the people were saying, “Praise be to Thee, O Christ,” the Paschal Candle went out. It went out because its entire top section, wick, wax, flame, and all, fell, barely missing the deacon himself and dropping into a wreath of flowers on the floor. Of course the wreath caught fire.

The deacon, facing away from the candle, heard the people gasp and turned after a moment or two and saw the burning flowers, but in his alb and cope, his best move was to get out of there. So, with the equally long-skirted acolytes either side of him, he processed solemnly back up the aisle to the chancel.

People murmured, but nobody did anything. Demetrios later said he was waiting for some official to do something. Others appeared reluctant to trample the beautiful flowers. Somebody began ineffectually beating at the flames with a giant candle snuffer, but the fire only grew. So finally, unwilling to wait any longer, I did it – just waded in, hiking up my dress some, and began stomping and in a moment the fire was out (and my brand new shoes, unharmed).

Okay, back-tracking now to tell you the main story, Stuart is the very special man at whose house we meet on Tuesday nights for Bible study. He’s a good and humble man and we are very fond of him and Angela, his wife. So when we found out his ordination was on Sunday at 10:30, we realized we could actually be there, as the Orthodox service, only a few blocks away, didn’t begin until noon. So, on a glorious Pentecost morning, we set off, taking the train to Liverpool and a cab from the station to the Cathedral.

We found seats right beside a delightful old lady who looked like an elderly Katharine Hepburn and was as personable as she was pretty. (We ended up giving her one of our cards, in hopes of keeping up the acquaintance.) She is a geographer, used to teach geography in school and keeps up her interest (though she didn’t know where Thessaloniki is) and she kept chatting amiably until the opening prayer.

Those to be ordained are first taken to the Chapter House, where they stand before the Bishop of Liverpool and make some affirmations and vows.

First, each affirms and declares “my belief in the faith which is revealed in the Holy Scriptures and set forth in the catholic creeds and to which the historic formularies of the Church of England bear witness; and in public prayer and administration of the sacraments, I will use only the forms of service which are authorized or allowed by Canon.”

This of course raises a couple of questions in my mind, such as what Scripture is thought to set forth and what is not allowed by Canon, but we can pass over those for now.

Next come two oaths:

I, _____, swear by Almighty God that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, her heirs and successors according to law.

And:

I, ____, swear by Almighty God that I will pay true and canonical obedience to the Lord Bishop of Liverpool and his successors in all things lawful and honest.

Then, says the rubric, “When the legal business is completed, those to be ordained are conducted from the Chapter House to their places in the Cathedral.”

The service proper begins with the Cathedral Procession, consisting of:

Beadle  [a minor parish official whose duties include ushering and preserving order at services ]
The Cross of Liverpool
Collectors
Cathedral Readers and Chaplains
Visiting Readers
Visiting Clergy
Officers for post licensing Initial Ministerial Education
Assistant Dean of Women’s Ministries
Director of Ordinands
Mace [one who carries a mace, an ornamental staff borne as a symbol of authority before a public official]
The Archdeacon of Northolt (one Rachel Treweek)
The Cathedral Chapter
The Dean of Liverpool
The Bishop of Warrington
The Bishop of Liverpool

We were able to stay through the ordinations, but had to leave for our own church just as the Eucharistic rite was beginning,

What can I say about the service? The words were unobjectionable (apart from the filioque) and the rites impressive enough. Although we missed a certain profundity to be found in Orthodox services, one could almost think the service quite orthodox, until you remembered that of the 14 people ordained, 10 were women. (It's their organization; let them do what they please with it, is what I say.)

Stuart

We ducked out after the Applause (to welcome the newly ordained) and before the Exchange of Peace, to find our glorious morning transformed into a cold, rainy one; and having broken one of our two cardinal rules, we were carrying only one umbrella, the one in my purse. Demetrios had bought it just before we came here, thinking it a bargain at only $5. NO! You need a good umbrella here, and it’s worth every penny you pay. This one was virtually useless; we actually tossed it in the trash bin later, at the end of the day.

After two miserable blocks of wet and cold and wind, we hailed a cab to take us the remaining four, and arrived only a few moments late.

Gotta tell you, it’s been a while since I did a full, forehead-to-the-ground prostration. Those Pentecost prayers, just the parts where you do the prostrations, seemed to me half an hour long! They’re virtually never done at our parish back in Richmond, except on Pentecost Sunday. I’m going to have to start doing some of those at home or I’ll be totally unable by next year. I habitually forget I’m no thirty-year-old.

After the Divine Liturgy, we were reunited with several friends, notably dear Elias, together with Philippos and Yiannis. We met another Yiannis, a Greek-American born and raised in New Jersey. It felt very good to us and apparently to him, to meet another American in church.

We had to hurry away soon after church, because back in Ormskirk, the local parish was having a biggish “do” for Stuart. And for Linda, their other newly-ordained priest. The festivities were to continue until vespers at 4:30, so we thought we could make it, but we didn’t.

Yiannis, the one we met last year, kindly drove us to the train station; we only had to wait 12 minutes for our train to depart at 3:10; we arrived in Ormskirk at 3:40, and the Church House was several freezing, wet, windy blocks away. We gave up and ducked into the first open café we found, to take shelter and have a LONG-delayed meal.

We were still there when a formally-attired party of some 30 people arrived – a gray-mustachioed man and his bride, and, we supposed, his and her various children and grandchildren and best friends.

Then, home through the wind and rain and cold. We gave up even trying to stay somewhat dry and dashed through it all as quickly as we could, laughing and panting until we arrived at our cozy, warm apartment, where we stripped off our sodden clothing, got into pajamas and robes, hung up our wet things near the radiators to dry, and settled down to a hot cuppa in front of the television. Watched a hilarious movie called “Clockwise” and then, early to bed and to sleep while it was still daylight.

Here is a slidehow of the ordination, in case you want to see pictures.  In one of them, the paschal candle is visible, and you can see Demetrios and me standing near it, bottom center of the photo.  We're also in the bottom right corner of a couple more photos in this group.

Living in Ormskirk, Part 03

Friday, 10 June
Evening at a Pub

Robbie is here. Robbie is Julia's Brazilian cousin. His mother and hers were sisters, but Robbie was born and raised in Brazil, and still lives there. He will be here in England a few days, then will tour parts of Eurpoe, meeting again with Julia and David later this month in Vienna.

He's somewhat dark-skinned, has a slight accent, and is good fun. Retired now, he used to teach information technology at a college there in the southern part of Brazil.

Nick came, too, David and Julia's younger son; first time we've seen him this year. He's teaching English at Bangor University and will be extremely busy the next two weeks, but after that, hopes to spend more time with us. We hope so, too, but don't know how realistic that may be, given that his dissertation is due in September, 2012.

Anyway, we met Robbie and Nick, Julia and David, James and Kim at the Star, a pub in their village of Rainford. The pub was quite crowded, mostly with people the others knew.

Somehow we had even more fun than usual, perhaps because of the two 'newcomers'; I don't know.

Robbie says winter where he lives in Brazil is like the weather we're having now, which is mostly dry (eastern England is officially in a drought now) but chilly; one needs both sweater and jacket, and we've kept a little heat on in our flat.

(But the most fun part is, the sun doesn't set this time of year until around 10:00, and even by 11:00, you can still see red sky in the west.)

I've been reflecting on my life, and in very recent years, at least, it seems to have been very easy, and to be all about having fun, and so disgustingly superficial, so obscenely trivial, I don't even know why I blog about it.

A priest once told me it's only pride wanting to live a heroic life; to do that is for very great souls, not souls like mine, and perhaps in His mercy, to look after Demetrios is the main thing God is calling me to do, and I should accept that and (at least for a beginning) concentrate on doing that as best I can.

I hope he was right! Because at least Demetrios does seem genuinely very happy now, in contrast to the miserable man I first met, who told me he had secretly been unhappy all his life, although he had put on a good front for his friends.

He's still working hard on his book, and perhaps that is another thing my life is about, helping him with that (arguing every paragraph with him). So far, it expresses very succinctly his thoughts, which in itself is a tremendous accomplishment, but is only for his own benefit. Now he needs to transform it into a piece of communication. So he's working on some explanatory notes, some definitions, and a few small diagrams to illustrate what he means. I told him even 'E=MC2' is meaningless unless one knows that E stands for 'Energy,' 'M' stand for 'Matter' and 'C' is not only for 'Constant', but specifically for the speed of light.  'And even to say that is meaningless unless you have some idea what the speed of light is,' I added.  So far, he has written only his very compact formulae, all of which need considerable unpacking.

Well, if it ever reaches the form it should, as I trust it shall, I shall feel very honored to have helped him with it.

So maybe my life isn't entirely useless, but it does feel that way just now.

Living in Ormskirk, Part 01

Monday, 30 May - Tuesday, 31 May 
In Which We Arrive Safely

This year we flew Continental.  When I worked in the airline industrty, we despised Continental, considering it no competition at all, at the bottom of the heap, suffering from problems of maintenance and integrity.

This time, however, we were quite pleased.  Both flights, the one out of Richmond and the one out of Newark, departed and arrived on time.  Service was good, seats were good, food was good.  On the trans-Atlantic leg, we had extreme good luck.  The flight was full; there was only one, single, empty seat, and it was right between us.  So we got to spread out some, which makes a considerable difference.

We flew comfortably into the night, and a couple of hours later, into glorious day, in time to see broad stretches of Ireland through the breaks in the clouds.  As Manchester, our destination, is right across the Irish Sea, we got there very soon afterwards; in fact, we arrived 20 minutes early.

David was waiting for us, although Julia had to work. 

He drove us to our little flat, and we were there by 9:30.  James, his son, had already brought us his TV for the duration.  'Never actually took it away,' David said. 

The next thing I noticed was a pot of begonias atop the fridge!  Then David pointed out the coffee and the tea he and Julia had brought.  And then - he opened the fridge, and it was full!!  They had stocked it with everything from butter and yogurt to a roasted chicken, potatoes, cole slaw, tuna salad, bread, and I can't remember what all else, but several other items.

It meant we didn't have to make a trek to the supermarket for two or three days.

'Just kick back and relax,' said David as he departed.  'Oh, and it's all dusted and hoovered for you.'

!!!  Imagine the kindness.

So we crashed for the rest of the day.

Thursday, 02 June
Doing as Little as Possible

We crashed after we arrived, and have felt groggy most of the time since. Our only activity, only time we've been out of the house, was to meet David and Julia, together with James and his girlfriend, Kim, for dinner last night. James is Demetrios' godson.

It was great to reunite with all of them, and the food was good, too. But frankly, it's all still a blur, and I don't remember many details.

We did venture into town today, sort of reconnecting with its stone sidewalks and cobbled streets, Victorian buildings, the old Clock Tower, the odd-looking, gray-stoned Ormskirk Parish Church, with both tower (square) and spire (conical).

We shopped for some food at Morrison's, nearest supermarket, and on our way home, we stayed half an hour on a park bench beside the pond in Coronation Park to watch the waterfowl, the moorhens and coots and mallards and gulls.


Moorhen

Coot


The mallards had nine ducklings, including a bright yellow one, much more conspicuous than the rest. As I said to Demetrios, 'If you'll pardon the expression, that one's a sitting duck for predators like the Yellow-legged Gull.' We watched the gull making continual passes over the ducklings, but their parents (as well as two 'uncles') were guarding them too carefully.

No sign of the swans. Eventualy three pair of Canada geese appeared, and as they swam past us, I said, 'Maybe they've displaced our swans.'

No way! Little did I know. About 45 seconds later the swans appeared, emerging furiously from the underbrush of the island in the middle of the pond. And with much noise (from so-called Mute Swans!) and much splashing and flapping of wings, the swans chased the Canada Geese, all six of them, right out of the water.

Then the cygnets appeared, six of them this year. Still quite small. We were delighted to have stayed long enough to see them. But we left quite soon, as it had become nerve-wracking to watch the gull trying to steal a duckling.