The end of the year.

I feel in a reflective mood.

Today I shut the door of chaplaincy for the last time in quite a while.

There comes this point in the year when one has to say enough is enough and you take a rest. Which I haven't done yet this year.

This is the time of year I enter when I don't spend anytime with students and I recharge the batteries.

Then I come up with ideas for next year!

Of course I have much to reflect on and I'll probably do that here. You know, what with us being friends and all. I still have two more Big Ticks to write up. Other than that I'd like to declare this year officially closed.

Now I'm off for a new year party.

Basically I'm going to the pub. But I'll probably do the whole counting down thing at midnight. After all this feel much more like new year than the other one.

P is for Pottery Soc.

I was stood outside the Students Union waiting for my next tick to arrive.

I spied a short woman with dark hair walking across the concourse. She saw me and crossed to where I was standing.

“Hello Binty” I said.
“Yellow!” she replied.
Binty I should explain is not her real name.
“We could always do real names.” I said pausing to think for a moment. “It's Fiona isn't it?”
Fiona Binstead pottery society big wig.
“You're Simon aren't you.” she said.
“Sometimes.” I replied
She laughed “Those are our names....but no one ever uses them.”
“No one.” I said
“Hello Simon!” said another student passing by.

There was a pause.

“Where's the bus?” I asked.

We were off to do some pottery. Obviously. That's what pottery soc do.



We all get in bus and head off to City College. This was not the first time I had gone. I first turned up in the middle of winter. The journey to city college has to be taken because the pottery facilities at the union had to go to make way for something far more aesthetically pleasing – the sabbatical team.

One in the class teacher talks me through the options.

“Right” he says “most people start off making a cup.”
Hmmmmm, I think, cup! Can't go wrong with that. Very practical. Could come in useful. You can never have too many cups can you.
“Or we can make something else.” he went on. Clearly he had got the measure of me.

Then he got it out. The clay! Mmmmmmmmmmmm. Clay. Clay. Clay. Clay. Clay.

Like a slippery squishy...um...squishy thing, it whispered to my fingers.
“Squish me, squish me!” or perhaps that really was my imagination.

“So you could make something more interesting.” said the teacher “Like for instance....” I could tell he was thinking hard “....a big tick.”

A Big Tick? Out of clay? Surely not.

He assured me it was indeed possible. I had to use this mixture of sand and clay, it was called something like scrate. It was not squishy at all. Which let's be honest is the mark of great clay, as I think you have already realized. I noticed someone else was working with more squishy clay so I stole some off her and played with it when no one was looking.



They got me to roll it out my sandy clay and cut a tick out from it. In four pieces. Then I had to painstakingly put these together. At the join I had to strengthen the clay. With more clay. First I attached one side then another before it was ready to stand upright and have the final side put on.

The clay I was using was very strong but still it started to fall apart. So we strengthened it some more and re-enforced it. It was a major work of engineering I can tell you. I suggested a stand for it to go on and Binty helped me to make one.







By the end of the evening my work was done. I circulated round the room to see what everyone else was up to.

“How did you get involved in pottery soc” I asked Tom.
“Don't know really” he said “I came along one week and made a cup. Then I had to wait for it to be fired before I could glaze it so while I waited I made a plate and while I was waiting for that to be fired I made a teapot.”

Ah! Now I saw. They bought you along with the offer of a simple cup.
“Just a little cup. What harm is there in that? No one will notice if you aren't there tonight.”
Then they got their claws into you with the plate and the saucer and the teapot and before you knew it you were an addict.

Well not me. No sir. I was going to walk away.

“It's all done” I said “So I'll be off now.”
“Yes.” says the teacher. “You need to leave it for a few days to dry out and then we can smooth it. We'll do that next week.”

NEXT WEEK?!?! No way! I have to tick someone else.

But there was no use. I came back and smoothed. Then smoothed some more – this time we the back of a spoon. Then I signed it. Then it got fired. Then I glazed it. Then it got fired again.





By the time I finished it was summer.



I got to have a go on the wheel too. I didn't make anything. I just did some squishing.

All very squishy. Mmmmmmmmmmm.

In the end I was presented with my sculpture. Having completely failed art at school I had made something with my own hands. I hadn't done that since I made my mum a bowl in class 3B when I was 10. She's still got it. She keeps it in the toilet. (Thanks mum!)

So Pottery Soc. It's both squishy and quite addictive and there's not many things you can say that of, is there?

So this is a new piece by a first time artist. Named “The Big Tick!” It speaks of achievement and progress and um randomness and general shite.



Looks a bit like a peeled banana. Possibly not as useful as a cup.

Pottery Soc: Hand crafted Tick







Church of England Chaplain University of Southampton The Big Tick Southampton University University Soton Uni Pottery

il fait chaud

Well the rain that has turned Tewkesbury into England's Venice seems to have stopped.

Just in time for me to spend all day sweltering in academic robes at 5 graduations.

I heard on the news last night that one of my friend's parish is underwater. I hope she's alright. Sent her an e-mail last night so far I haven't heard anything.

More rain tomorrow apparently.

A is for Aikido

They took me to a padded room. This was a first for me believe it or not!

It was great! All the walls and even the floor was soft and squishy. It was just purpose built to bang your head against repeatedly.

“Mmmmmmm!” I thought “I need my office to look more like this.”

I had no idea that there was such a room in the students union building. Unfortunately it wasn't there for me to go a little bit crazyin. No Adrian had bought me here to learn a martial art.

Adrian was my guide. I had met him at fencing and he had wanted to get me along to Aikido ever since. I suspected he just wanted to beat the crap out of me like that girl did at Kung Fu. He's a quiet unassuming guy Adrian. Not much of a talker. Which is hard for me as I have no idea what to do with silence. Actually that's not true. I normally use silence as the repository of words. Usually mine. The only trouble is the bigger the silence that needs to be filled the more words I put in it.

There has to be some sort of equation which some mathematician could come up with which would help me to work out how many words I have to produce before those words become shite. I know they will become shite it's like that rule about all arguments on internet forums tending towards comparisons with Hitler. Likewise there is a probability of 1 that once my mouth is open that shite will be produced subject to a small amount of time passing. I suspect that the amount of words needed to produce shite is actually quite small. However if someone could do the maths for me that would be very helpful.

Where was I? Ah yes Maths. That's what the Aikido teacher does for his day job. Of course at this point in the story I didn't know that because he hadn't turned up yet so we hadn't met. And it was quiet because I was alone with Adrian Coveney and he's not very talkative.

I decided to produce some not-shite using my voice.

“It's very padded in here.” I said

There was a pause.

“It's the martial arts training room.” Adrian informed me.
“Yes” I said “Very padded. You could use it for, um, lots of things.”
“Yes” says Adrian with a smile.

Adrian goes to get changed. I am joined by a Scotish bloke. He asks me who I am. I explain I am a university chaplain.

“Here to learn Aikedo?” he asks, stating the obvious.
“Yes!” I reply deciding that the whole sponsored society-a-thon involving Liberty Child is probably too long a story for just then.

They set up a photo of a dead bloke in the corner and then everyone does lots of bowing. The dead bloke is Morihei Ueshiba who came up with Aikido presumably one day when we was bored. Maybe he was trying to avoid talking shite and decided to throw people around instead. Anyway he gets some bowing too.

The bowing bit of martial arts has always got me. I never quite get it. So the first thing I discovered on this particular journey is that if you don't like bowing then Aikido probably isn't for you. Nor probably is comedy, acting or any kind of live performing. Unless of course, you happen to be shit.




The class assembled. Everyone except me is wearing white. There are only two belts in Aikido. Black for the teacher and White for everyone else. Easy to spot the teacher who it turns out is an American Mathematician called Jim Anderson.

So we warm up. Lots. And lots. We stretch everything. I go to back of the class where i can carefully observe so I don't get it wrong. The warm up takes so long that I feel by the end of it, I've actually achieved all I want and can I go to the pub now?

We stretch every inch of our bodies. There is even one exercise when we all stand with our hands clasped over our lower abdomens and then vigorously shake them to loosen our wrists. From behind this looked, well a little strange. Not something I ever thought I'd be doing in a padded room with 20 men.

Just when i thought the lesson was all warm up and nothing else, it begins. More bowing and then we practice grabbing each others wrists and turning this into someone laying on the floor unable to move. One of the things I liked about Aikido is that it's not about punching and kicking people but using their force against them. So it really is a defence not an attack. That does seem more in line with our lord's command to turn the other cheek. Of course turning the other cheek actually means allow someone to beat the crap out of you, but if you can't quite manage that Aikido seems to be the next best thing.



So I spend quite a lot of the lesson on the floor, naturally, but at the same time I learn how to put someone there. The lesson focuses on the wrist grab and what to do with it. There are loads of ways out of this one I learn.









The teacher is very nice and supportive and really makes me feel at ease. Although I still don't like all the bowing.

“You have to do that” he explains “it's because this was once unarmed combat.”

Wow, I think.

The end of the lesson comes. We stretch, we bow, we get changed.

So Aikido. Flowing, gentle, deadly.

Don't be coming near me now and grab my wrist cos I'll do for you. No, no if I were you, I'd just hit me with something.

Far too much bowing, but if I was ever going to learn a martial art this would be it.



Aikido: Harmonious Tick

cheers to Adrian Coveney for the photos.

Church of England Chaplain University of Southampton The Big Tick Southampton University University Soton Uni Aikido

Rain

I awoke this mornign to the newsman telling me that torrential rain was on the way.

It didn't turn up. At least not in Southampton.

We just had a few graduates with damp robes.

Birmingham ville des reves

Birmingham....city of dreams!

That's where I have been.



Look at it there, in all it's glory!

I travelled by train through the bright sunshine. Yes it was sunny. In fact the sunshine poured in through my window and heated my face which together with the gentle motion of the train slowly sent me to sleep.

At Winchester I was joined, in the seat next to me, by a young girl with numerous backpacks and a hoodie. It seems I can't get away from students in the holidays they find me! She reminded me of the many young female members of the Southampton CU. Don't ask me why, just something about her. Perhaps it was just that she was chirpy and engaged me in conversation.

I asked her where she went to University. She replied St Andrews. I asked her if she knew the the Assistant Information Architect / Web Manager. She told me she doesn't get down to the IT department very often. I told her to say hi to everyone next time she did. She promised to and asked me if my friend was the one who kept making the University web Page disappear. I said yes because it made me sound like I knew what I was talking about. Even though I didn't. I asked her if she ever went to St Andrews Chaplaincy. She said no, adding:

"But I am a member of the CU!"

I think that proves I can spot a member of a CU anywhere in Britain.

Anyway that was Kate.

I arrived in Birmingham and instantly the sunshine went away and it poured down. A short sharp shower. It just seemed to be Birmingham's way of saying:



"Welcome to Birmingham! You're not from round here are you?"

I was heading for something called the "Big Peg". Here it is.



I think you'll agree it looks nothing like a peg. If I was going to guess I'd say it was probably some sort of building. But what do I know?

After my meeting I had time to take in the wonder that is Birmingham. They've got everything.

They even have their own version of London's BT Tower. It stands proud against the skyline like a minaret of communication based capitalism.



The Jewelry Quarter is very nice, but has some strange pavement based curiosities like this one.



I have no idea what this means.



In Birmingham the street signs are informative and regularly spaced.



There were a number of food and drink outlets.



One of which had a fine entrance way decorated with artwork.



In Birmingham there are a variety of shops, enabling the locals to buy everything from clothing to electrical goods.



Argos is such an important shop in Birmingham it warrants it's OWN street sign.



The ground is so soft in Birmingham that many of the locals prefer to use it rather than purpose built seating.



Ah Birmingham! I did consider speaking to one of the locals but I decided against it. You know what it's like when you're on holiday. You begin a conversation only to suffer the embarrassment of running out of vocabulary half way through. So instead I marvelled at the sights and then got on a train to Southampton.

I probably will go back.

Church in decline

The amount of Anglican Vicars who's surname begins with 'z' has doubled in the last decade.

I know.

I've checked.

I like to keep you informed.

Sabs

Today I met the new President and Vice presidents of the students' union.

One after another. There were 5 of them. It took all morning.

It was agony!

No not the meetings. Just being alive. OH OH OH! I seem to be in a little bit of pain. I paid a visit to the chemist on the way home. Dispensing with paracetamol in order to go for a codeine and paracetamol combo for added pain relief. I had to settle for that because for some strange reason they don't do morphine over the counter.

Am I being a typical bloke? You bet I am. At the end of the day there is always someone worse off than you.

That doesn't change the fact that I'm in agony though does it?

I don't suppose the people worse off than me like the fact that I might get comfort from because their life is really crap. So let's just leave that one and focus on my pain!

Anyway the meetings were good. I thought last years lot were pretty good but it actually looks like this lot might actually top them. So if you're coming to Southampton Uni this year you're in good hands.

I chatted a lot to Nick (vp comms) about Orange - not a colour I talk about a lot. Sarah (the president) asked me how I got this job. Which was nice because she didn't say it with an air of astonishment like most people do. I spoke to Tom (Athletic Union president) about that feeling you have when you are the last to be picked at sport when at school. He sympathised but admitted he had no idea what that felt like, so he wont be visiting a therapist any time soon, I guess.

I spoke to Claire (VP education) about education.

I had a long chat with Kate who has replaced Toby in the welfare chair. While chatting to her I had an idea.

One of my better one's I think....

You'll probably be hearing more about that latter...



...maybe!

Grown ups don't fall over

Children Bounce.

They just do.

Take my word for it. Don't try dropping one on their head. If you do that they don't bounce. Then you will get arrested.

Children do bounce when they fall down playing or fall off a bike or something like that. You hear the smack of them hitting the ground and then they get up like nothing happened. All the adults around them turn a funny shade of red, purple, green or blue but the kids just get up and carry on. Adults like to wrap children in cotton wool to keep them safe from the evils that lurk round every corner. Actually you don't need to. They are already coated in invisible rubber.

Ba-doing.

Adults however do not bounce as I discovered. I was out today on a community bike ride. People from all over Southampton, young and old getting together to ride bikes. It had rained today so the ground was a little wet.

We were all cycling at child speed when I braked. Not to hard just to slow myself down and my wheels locked. With astonishing speed my bike slid from under me and I hit the ground with a huge slap and travelled a short way along on my side.

Two very nice Asian men on foot rushed to my aid. What surprised me was the effect this had. OK my pride was in tatters but that's all I expected. Instead much to my astonishment I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe either. I lay their groaning and gasping for air. Unable to speak.

"You want ambulance?" said one of the guy's with an air of concern I found a little amazing.
"You breathe?" he went on "I call ambulance!"

I tried to say no and to get to my feet.

By this point the other riders had turned round and came back. They in turn stood over me.

"He's turned very pale said one of them."

Outrageous! I thought, all I've done is fallen off my bike and I'm at death's door.

Several people helped me up they carried me over to a nearby bench and sat me down. where I tried and partially suceeded at getting my breath back.

"Have you broken your ribs?" someone asked me.

No of course I bloody haven't, I wanted to say, I've just sodding fallen off a bike. However since breathing sent sharp pains shooting through my chest, I didn't. I recovered enough to speak but I now felt dizzy and disorientated.

"You've been badly winded" said someone "and you're in shock you should eat a chocolate bar or something." One of the mums offered me children's paracetomol.

I sat there for about half an hour. Gradually getting my breath back and slowly recovering. The children cycled round me.

"I fell off my Bike too." said one of the kids, proundly pointing out a muddy graze on his bare knee like some sort of battle scar. He then amply showed the difference between us by cycling off at full speed.

Eventually I hauled myself back on my bike and, still feeling the twinges, set offonce more at a greatly reduced speed. I returned home sullenly. It's 7 hours later. I ache all over and it still hurts when I breathe.

Adults don't fall over. Children do it all the time. They get up and get on. Sometimes they cry for 2 minutes first. But not adults.

I want my rubber coating back.

(That last line probably isn't what you expect to read on a blog written by a priest (!). If you came here from google looking for a blog that delt with real rubber coating, as opposed to mythical, magical, invisable rubber coating I do appologise. Please click here)

Shower Talk

Something weird happened today.

I've been struggling to write stand-up material. I can write scripts, blogs and fiction easily enough and i don't often have too many problems thinking up something funny to say.

Equally when I have to preach or for example when I take part in Student inductions I don't have many problems making it funny. I've already written this years induction stand up ready for the new freshers to arrive. However if I just have to stand their cold and talk for no reason....well it's very hard to write for that.

So I thought I wouldn't try.

Today i got in the shower and instead of just washing myself like you probably do, I thought, for a change, I'd just talk. So I did pacing up and down in the shower just talking out load.

It was quite incredible. I didn't think I could just talk but I could.

Stuff about why God made Chocolate, periods and Sex. The connection between Saddam Hussein and Apples and just piles of random shite. All came out without trying. Trouble is can I'm not sure I can remember any of it let alone say it all again.

This is clearly the way I work though. No more sitting down with a pad of paper. No more trying. Maybe I just need to stand up and speak. Probably when I'm not naked. Though naked can sometimes be funny. So as I just said to a student I'm probably going to spend most of this weekend standing in the shower. Talking. She was confused. The student I mean. I told her to read this.

In other news I managed to get from Jake Sheers to Frottage in 3 clicks on wikipedia.

French

My mind is like one of those lawmowers that you need to tug on to start....

I'm trying to make it work in French. I haven't done any French for over a year.

It goes:

"judder, judder, blem....judder, judder, blem....judder, judder, blem"

I'm hoping it will soon go:

"judder, judder, blem, judder judder, jidder jidder...wrooom"

and then cut the grass.

In French.

Si vous comprenez ce que je veux dire.

Southampton Schools - Oasis Trust

There is something of a local spat going on down here in Southampton.

It concerns the role of faith in education. In this case it concerns local schools.

Now, of course, my particular field is higher education, not education in general, but since my role is concerned with bringing faith into education I thought I might shove in my two peneth.

The story concerns 4 local schools. The birth rates have been falling and so there is a need to consolidate the educational provision in the city. So the council decided to close 4 schools and open two new ones. There was an open competition and in the end it seems to have come down to the Oasis Educational Trust backed by the Diocese of Winchester the YMCA and a large local Church and the Southampton Educational Trust which was put together by the two Universities in Southampton, several FE colleges and a local employer.

The matter is full of political intrigue because the decision was made by the Conservative controlled council. The Conservative are the surprise party in power here, having not won the election but having taken power with the vote of one of the Liberal Democrate councillors who decided to put them into power rather than have Labour.

Are you keeping up? Good!

Had the Labour Party been in power the S.E.T. bid would almost certainly have won, but instead the Tories went for Oasis Trust.

Oasis Trust is a Christian Charity.

There is where the spat is occurring. People are already making comparisons with Emmanuel College, Gateshead the so-called creationist school run by Sir Peter Vardy. People are talking about "The education of our children being handed to a Baptist Minister" (That being The Revd Steve Chalk who runs Oasis).

Now first off let me say I think that religion has a role to play within education. Religion, values and culture all overlap and it is nearly impossible to have one without the other two. I think that by being upfront about our religion in education we become aware of the values we are injecting into the process. Whereas I find too often we naively assume that a secular education is 'value neutral'. This has produced a very utilitarian approach to education in which the prevailing value system, capitalism and a free market approach go unchallenged.

The problem with the Oasis bit, in my mind, is simple: It is not a faith school.

The value system is not clearly articulated and thus the school cannot clearly assess and challenge the educational values around them. Indeed I think it would be very hard for students within the school to adequately challenge the values since they are clear. Indeed this will lead to the Christian values which Oasis are trying to imbue into the school being eroded and appearing somewhat underhand. As is already happening. People are objecting because this seems underhand.

Education is a public thing. The values espoused are corporate values which is why the colours need nailing to the mast, and then expressed.

However turning aside from the actual school to the political situation what worries me most is the dishonesty of all parties. The Labour, Conservative and Liberal groups are all playing this dishonestly.

You see everyone is now drawing up battle lines, they are all saying that their preferred school will be the best at raising standards. No one is telling you the real agenda going on here.

What this is all about is getting back the many Southampton based pupils who are currently educated in Hampshire County Council Schools. The fact of the matter is there is a strip of Southampton which is a little more affluent than the rest. It is served by two very good junior schools however there does not seem to be enough of kids in this area to support one 'posh' secondary school. So often parents in this area send their kids elsewhere.

These kids are a little bit more affluent, their parents a little better educated than average and they are higher achievers.

What is the quickest way of raising your standards?

Take in better pupils.

So this is really about providing education for a few precious little flowers who will provide a pretty corner of Southampton's educational garden. These kids are being thought of before the rest.

Most cities have a variety of different schools. Most though, have at least one very, very good school. Southampton doesn't have that and it wants it. Oasis trust represented the best way the Tories could see of getting that. So they went for that.

That's the truth.

No one's telling you it.

It's not, in and of itself, a bad thing to do, it would just be better if they were honest about it.

S is for Showstoppers

Then things got epic...

It was a big mofo of a society. A huge all singing all dancing society. A whale of a fish and I had my rod out, and by golly I was gonna land her.

Showstoppers.

They sing, they dance, they do everything big. They have talent and I had asked to join them.
"Can you sing?" asked Tim when I ran the idea past him.
"No" I said in a moment of honesty.
"Can you dance?"
"Like I'm pogo sticking on speed."
"OK, have you got a pair of tights? Cos you can be a flower."
I think about this for a moment.
"Can I be a yellow one?"
"Sure."

A few days latter Chelley pops by Chaplaincy to fill me in on my part. She sings the song that someone called Toad is going to sing.

"You're going to start of as a seed...while Toad is singing you're going to grow"
"Am I going to have to sing anything?"
"No...just grow."

OK so this is going to tax my acting skills.

The stories of Frog and Toad are found in a delightful collection of books designed to help children learn to read. Frog and Toad are close friends and spend time flying kites and gardening and just generally hanging about. These stories were made into a Broadway show aimed a children. It follows frog and toad through a year of their life where they explore their friendship and insecurities as well as learning about nature and the world around them.

In the hands of British undergraduates somehow without changing the script one bit, this became a story of the kind of love that only two men can give each other. Brokeback Swamp, if you will.

Along with Frog and Toad there were also a variety of different woodland animals. Squirrels, a snail postman and a variety of Birds.

For my scene I shared the spotlight with two young ladies. Originally all three of us were to be dressed the same in matching tight hot pants with green tights and t-shirts. Being as I was a slightly different shape to Cat and Sarah we went for slightly different costume which seemed to emphasise that. Dark socks with shorts for that old awkward middle aged look.



We were supposed to roll on stage and then be picked up by toad and planted. Since I apparently weighed so much more than the others I had to be bought on in a wheel barrow.



Then we were watered and grew. Gracefully. Through the medium of dance.

Cat talked me through the dance at one of the rehearsals.

"Like this?" I said flailing my arms around violently.
"Yes!" said Cat, collapsing in giggles.

So we grew.



Since we were lacking in petals we went for the tree look.



“I'm a tree...I'm a tree...I'm a tree” I said to myself. Getting into character.



Lights down and then my scene was over. I did, I confess, want to be in slightly more of the show. Call it my dramatic side not being properly nurtured and watered.

During the dress rehearsal I spoke to the director about the fact I was the only cast member not on stage for the final scene. The big Christmas scene. It just looked like fun. All the members of the cast had to get dressed up all Christmassy.

"I suppose you can't really get a tree all dressed up for Christmas" I said gloomily.

I turned up for the first night and discovered a small pile of tinsel waiting for me. During the Autumn scene three female members of the cast set about me and I was well and truly pimped. On subsequent nights my costume was added to with fairy lights and a star. My job was to stand at the back of stage and make it all seem more festive. Which was not difficult though the band had trouble playing when I was on stage.



I should probably mention in passing the 'special' rehearsal on
Saturday afternoon. Which was not an official performance. I really don't want to tell you what happened. It was a bit nasty really, and the Christmas Tree was turned Jewish and topped not with a star or fairy but a 7 inch (circumcised) phallus. Suffice it to say that everyone who either took part or witnessed the event should probably be offered therapy.

Especially me.

Special mention has to go to Daniel Farrell and Andy Towns who were brilliant as Frog and Toad and Mike Merrett who was the best snail there's ever been.

Sarah Blake and Cat Goodall are stars for agreeing to appear on stage with me.

In fact everyone was just brilliant! (I'd also like to thank my mother and my agent)

After each show we had to socialise and at the end we even had our own little awards. I won best human prop.

After all that I felt like I'd not only ticked them off, but actually I'd become part of something really, really good. You see they are more like a family then a society.

So I joined showstoppers.

If that ending seemed a bit too dewy eyed....well this is musical theatre darling!



Showstoppers:

Enter lead male: "I've got a big, I've got a big, I've got a big"
Chorus (High kicking): "He's got a big, he's got a big, he's got as big"
Lead female: "Is it true you got a big, got a big, got a big?"
Enter all male cast members: "Yes he's got a big, got a big, got a big
Chorus: "He's got a big, got a big, got as big"
Lead male: "Big, big, big"
All: "He's got a very big, big BIG"
Lead male: "I've got a very Big......... TICK"
All: "Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick"
Lead female: "It's a very big tick!"
All "Big, big, big TICK"

Blackout

Curtain

Standing ovation.

Church of England Chaplain University of Southampton The Big Tick Southampton University University Soton Uni Musical Theatre Christmas A year with Frog and Toad Frog and Toad

Found this on facebook

Nuff said really.

From the BBC website...

Woman runner-up in one-horse race

A grandmother won second prize in a cake-baking contest at a fete, only to discover she was the only entrant.

Jenny Brown, 62, entered her Victoria Sponge into the competition and was initially pleased to have come second.

But she was left shocked when a friend revealed to her that she was the only person to take part.

The contest was organised by the Wimblington Sports Committee and judges marked down the cake because it had indentations from the oven rack.
'Judges' expectations'

Ms Brown said: "My friend came over to me at the fete and said I had come second.
"I asked her how many more entries there had been, but she just started laughing and said I was the only one.

"I definitely wasn't annoyed about it."

Although the cake was not deemed fit to win the competition, Ms Brown said it was soon polished off with no complaints.

Julie Dent, from the Wimblington Sports Committee, said: "The judges had an expectation and I suppose they didn't feel as though it qualified for first place.

"This was the first year but the cake competition will become an annual event."
She said her own baking was subject to another strange decision.

"About 11 years ago I entered a show with some fruit scones. I was the only entrant but I came third."

I kid you not....the original is here.

Book of your life

Caption Competition

(I have taken an extended break from Blogging in a vain attempt to feel human again after the end of term....)


If there was ever a photo that demanded a caption....this. is. it.


This is the Christian Union President.... and two members of the committee.

Take your time. I will personally buy a pint for the best entry.

Over to you...