Frog and Nails

On the subject of all things pope-on-a-rope:

Apparently the Pope has asked for an Italian museum to remove one of it's artworks.

He was upset because it was of a crucified frog. Well all I can say is: You think that's bad your righteousnessness? You should see what the kids down our way do to snails, slugs and other small creatures. Honestly just nailing something to a bit of wood is hardly sadistic at all in comparison.

I'm not sure if it's a touch of religion but most little boys seem to want to re-enact famous Christian martyrdoms with insects and minibeasts.

Except of course there were no martyrdoms involving pouring salt on Christians or putting them under a huge magnifying glass.

Still something to try next time, eh?

Nun so sweet

According to the BBC a priest from Italy wanted to organise a beauty contest for nuns.

He stressed that too many people thought of nuns as dower and old, so he wanted to rectify that.

There are apparently lots of pretty nuns in Italy and none of them are old.

So he wanted the pretty-and-not-old nuns to send photos of themselves so he could put them on his blog.

Is it just me or is that a priest advertising for young, sexually inexperienced, catholics to e-mail him pictures of themselves?

Has this one just written itself?

For some inexplicable reason the Bishop canceled the contest before it even got going.

Mind you sort of looses me. I find the whole 'nun' thing a bit of turn off to be honest. Well most of the time.

Still can't sit around here chatting all day I have to go away and come up with a convincing reason as to why someone else wrote this blog while I was away on holiday.

Private Joke: Gareth Saunders' day off.

Have you been injured in an accident that wasn't your fault?

So far I have received two phone calls and a letter asking me if I have been injured in my recent prang.

Apparently I had personal injury cover to included with my policy.

OK fine perhaps, to ask me that one time but three times?

I was not injured. Not even slightly. Nor was anyone else.

What I want is for my car to look like it did last week. Probably a new bumper, possibly a new boot and a respray.

This...is... NOT... an... opportunity... to... MAKE... MONEY.

I'm sorry I'm shouting, but seriously why does everything come down to this? Sometimes, there is no payout. Sometimes people, you just break even.

Screech bang!

I approached the roundabout to find it chocker with cars. Sensibly I stopped. I even put the hand brake on.

There was a screech of brakes and then an almighty bang which shunted me onto the roundabout so I thought it was probably best to get off again.

I checked the passengers (there were several, including a six day old baby) they all seemed to be alright, the baby didn't say a lot, they never do. I got out the car to be faced with a slightly nervous man.

"Sorry about that." he said.
"Don't worry too much." I said with a smile. "It does looks quite damaged."
"Well you never can tell." he said.
"Are you insured?" I asked.
"I'm a policeman." he replied.
"Oh how jolly!" I said "I'm a vicar!"
"Lovely!" he said

He gave me his details.

"Is your car damaged?" I asked.
"Hardly at all." he white-lied pushing back on a bit that was obviously hanging off, which promptly hung off again. "Is everyone in your car alright?"
"Think so, the baby hasn't said much."
"Right, better let the insurance deal with it then."
"Yes I said, well nice to meet you then." and with that he went.

I phoned up my insurance who reckoned it was his fault. I spoke to the very helpful Steve, who then put me through to a company that specialises in.

"Hello" said the voice at the other end of the line "I'm Annie and I'll be dealing with your claim today."
"What a pretty name you have." I said.
"Er...right...thank you...." she said "Um...shall we deal with your claim now?"

A pleasant hour on the phone later and I think it might all be dealt with.

So I met a delightful policeman, spoke to a thoroughly nice insurance man and and the utterly congenial Annie. All in all not a bad day.

Except for the copious twatage to my rear end.

Nothing like a holiday to make you feel relaxed.

Other things that are Yellow

I've often said that in chaplaincy ministry the boundaries are rubbery.

Often in Parish ministry the clergy are encouraged to have no friends in the parish. Indeed this was what was told to me at my first Post Ordination Course. That is surprising given that most Vicar's families attend the Vicar's church. I even knew a vicar who wouldn't let parishoners babysit because he wondered if they might use the oppertunity to have nose around.

That having been said things it seems are different in chaplaincy. I have often felt that with younger people there needs to be something of a two way street. You need to actually be yourself. So I have always tried to be that.

The problem then of course is that obviously you can't be completely yourself after all if you are having a bad day and not wanting to talk to anyone they may still need to talk to you. So the boundaries are very rubbery.

Today however something I had a conversation with someone and I became aware of a boundary issue I had hither to been unaware of.

It is one thing to be open about yourself.... but what about other people you are close to. They haven't chosen to be part of what you do it just happens to them. So does that mean they are public property too? I guess this is one that affects any public office holder. At what point does your work life end and someone else's personal life begin?

I'm not sure I know the answer to this one.

I'm not sure where I could go to get advice.

I would liek some advice though.