Tracks de Jour

If there was a sound track to my life the songs that would currently be playing are:

Anyway, by Martina McBride
Illustrates a great many sentiments within the desert of the past year and a sense of hope for the future that I now feel. Also something I really want to share with another friend of mine who is going through a bit of a rough patch (whether he acknowledges it or not)

Jesus, Take the Wheel, by Carrie Underwood
A classic anthem that I end up humming along to every time I'm about to go for an interview or lead the youth in an activity, acknowledging that there are no solo flights in the Kingdom. Also played as part of a thanksgiving for getting me through this past year.

Stained, by Android Lust
Something I picked up from NCIS Season 1 that's totally unique, classified as Alternative but I'd put it more like electronic-emo. It's totally wacky and completely addictive. Not so sure about her other tracks. Anyway, it symbolises my desire to become more adventurous in my musical downloads and expand my tastes, growing an eclectic collection that strays away from the Christian Muzak that dominates my iTunes.

More Than a Feeling, by Boston
I watched The Men Who Stare At Goats the other day and while I was vaguely amused by the story and zany humour (it was like Three Kings meets Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas) I was totally hooked on this one anthem played within the movie. It takes me back to when I worked in the bar at the airfield and the skydivers always put on their skydiving videos that always had some awesome tracks - one of which was this one. I totally need to find it on one of my CDs and upload it to iTunes. I'm sure I've got a copy on one of those freebie CDs you get in teh Daily Mail or whatever. That and 'Don't Fear the Reaper'. Sweet.

I'm sure there are a bunch more. My life is played out in a million different songs. I haven't even begun to mention the classical ones. John Rutter's A Celtic Prayer, for example. Beeeeautiful. And I will get around to the Christmas greats of old. But you don't need to know all those for now. You're probably listening to the same ones I am.

Great deals at Eden.co.uk / Shop Christian

I have a confession to make. I've succumbed to online shopping for my Christian stuff. But before you gasp at my serious U-turn on what was a firm principle to keep Christian Bookstores open by actually shopping in them, the online shop I use is (as far as I'm aware) Christian and, quite frankly, extremely competitive in price. Boo-yah! to Amazon, evil bookstore killers ;)

Anyway... The website for Eden is incredibly easy to navigate and very communicative. For example, it'll tell you if the item will reach you by Christmas or not, so you can avoid severe pre-Christmas anxiety by knowing before you click the 'check out' button whether your prezzies will arrive on time. Handy. You can also listen to samples of CD tracks. I was totally vegging out to my 30 seconds worth of Taize. What's more, if you spend more than £5 you'll get FREE DELIVERY!! As a valued customer I also just got a voucher for money off my next order. This site is just TOO GOOD!!

But don't be a stranger to the old-fashioned way of shopping for your Christian books either. Christian bookstores not only provide a great variety of books and goods but also have a warm, welcoming feel that acts as the hub of the Christian community between Sundays. Your local Christian bookstores need you too - especially CLC, whose sole aim is to bring the gospel and Christian Literature to remote areas of the world and, as such, relies on the sales of its books to fund its missions. Their staff are missionaries themselves, volunteering their time to keep the overheads to a minimum and the funding for missions at a maximum.

The Christian retail industry in North America has already taken a hit due to the migration of customers away from its doors and into secular stores that offer Christian literature at highly competitive prices alongside mainstream publications. The Christian Retail industry simply cannot compete with this market and has had to diversify in order to make its stores more 'appealing' and profitable. Incorporating cafes or coffee shops into their stores has been one way store-owners in the US and Canada have kept their businesses alive. In many ways they've had little choice since mainstream stores like WAL-MART and Costco started stocking vast quantities of popular books like Purpose Driven Life, Battlefield of the Mind and The Shack for hugely discounted prices - prices that Christian retailers cannot match. Add to that the availability of many titles on internet shopping sites like Amazon and you've got a recipe for the demise of the Christian retail industry.

At one point it looked as though the UK might head down the same road with shops like Tesco doing a similar thing in stocking copies of The Shack at marked-down prices. But this seems to be a one-off. Fortunately for UK Christian retailers the mainstream bookstores carry very few Christian titles, unlike their North American counterparts. However, we are already seeing the detrimental effect of the recession hit certain distributors, such as IBS-STL. The future of Wesley Owen books is hanging in the balance as a result of the financial trouble affecting the owners of STL.

So I reaffirm my plea to you: Shop Christian and keep this industry alive. Make good use of your Christian bookstore and if there isn't one local to you, use Christian internet shops like Eden.co.uk. CLC has an online shop too. Use it or lose it.

Finally, when you're looking for a Christian book pay the going rate for it. When we talk about 'worth' and 'value' our mind immediately connects it with money. But I believe many Christian books have the power to change our lives for the better. In that sense, their worth is beyond the confines of a wallet. Keep that in mind when you wonder whether you could get the book cheaper online at Amazon. Being a 'good steward' of God's resources doesn't always mean shafting the author and retailer in pursuit of the cheaper price. Consumerism and Christianity are not the best partners. Let's not sacrifice our friends for the sake of our wallets.

Found my wings

Feels like I'm officially back in the land of the living. It's strange because nothing's changed in terms of my employment. I'm still at the airfield one day a week, occasionally more when the shifts are available. I'm still getting phone calls from Temp agencies offering me minimum wage call centre jobs or admin assistant jobs or part time jobs, all of which are decent enough but don't exactly provide me with the greatest amount of security. I got an interview for the admin assistant job, did pretty well (I felt) but wasn't offered the position because I was over-qualified. Normally this would hit me pretty hard. After all, there are only so many rejections one can take. I did get a little upset, but picked myself back up again and carried on as normal.

But things feel different now. Not as dark. More energy. One reason I know is that I've felt more at home in the church I now attend. I've also begun doing more youth work again and the inspiration has returned. I'm brimming with ideas once more whereas before I was an empty shell wondering how I did what I did back when my life was fully focused on youth ministry. It feels so good! Is this finally where I'm supposed to be? I'm almost not so bothered by the kind of work I do as a day job now, as long as I have time and energy for the youth work. I guess I have more hope now: hope for the future. I didn't know what to ask God for but I was resisting the words of Jeremiah 29:11-13 because they're so over-used now. I was then shown the words again and, cornered, was asked "do you truly believe this?" I confessed that I did once but now it seemed sort of a cruel tease. I felt bad for no longer believing it and in my desperation cried out for God to restore my hope. He did. Peace was also restored.


Since then I've been happy to roam about the job sections without that weight of gloom, but also with a renewed sense of purpose. Needing something to occupy my time and sensing that perhaps I should do more for missions I looked at the CLC website to see what the latest news was in the Christian retail industry. I've always got a passion for their work and though it's all mission-based and therefore voluntary it's something I feel strongly about. Having rediscovered hope I felt less anxious about giving my time without financial reward. I noticed that my old haunt in Canterbury was looking for staff and wondered if I should commit some time to them once more. So I travelled in today and chatted with my old boss, Paul, and he mentioned that they were ideally looking for full time staff. Full time wasn't going to work, nor was part time this side of Christmas.

But something else he mentioned piqued my interest. A huge need was currently in the warehouse, based in Aylesbury. With the demise of a major distributor of books comes an opportunity for CLC to take on some of the distribution, which means expanding the warehouse. Already they're experiencing a huge increase in demand from both publishers and customers and as such desperately need order pickers and packers. Immediately I knew I could help fill some of this need. Logistically and financially it makes no sense because I'll have no income from this and consequently no way of living. Since I'll have to move nearer the area it would appear to be a ridiculous notion to even contemplate it. And yet, I feel so compelled to offer my services. How do the full time staff do it?? They surely must exist on prayer alone some days. That challenge, in itself, is enough to make me drop everything and go. Alas, my practical side tells me that it's not at all wise, not to mention that I'd miss the youth work I'm now involved in. And deep down I know God loves that I desire to help out, even if it's not His desire that I actually do the thing I'm passionate about (which is, in this case, moving 200 miles west for a job that doesn't pay...)

At the end of the day, as I sit here and take stock of what's been going on over the past year, I'm just thrilled that I've turned a corner and can feel such passion and motivation once more. I've rediscovered my wings. The aircraft is out of the hangar with a shiny new coat of paint and an engine overhaul, ready to get airborne. I had this image in my head last year but never truly realised it. Today I can safely say that it is here. I may not be airborne just yet but everything is starting to come together.

Yay!

Bright Star at Ashford??

YEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

FINALLY. Bright Star is showing at Ashford's Cineworld for 5 days as of Friday 20th November. All is forgiven.

Pity I have no money to go and see it (grrrr... car bill). Where's a hot date when you need one.. a knight in shining armour.. a noble gentleman who wishes to woo me by taking me to the cinema..??

Oh Solitude, if I must with thee dwell.....

Another blog

Just a quick announcement to introduce you to another blog I have created that is more about social commentary and less about my own journey.

The last posting I made on this current blog made me realise I needed another blog to vent my social issues etc, plus it also helps me focus my writing a bit more.

So eyesonthesky will continue to have my personal updates, pictures and stuff, whereas rabadash will have more general venting about life and society etc...

I'd be honoured if you followed both! (even if you don't entirely agree with the commentary on the new one..)

Culture, movies and a whole lot of crap

Bored as I am during my days of waiting for responses to job applications I decided to look at the movie listings for our local cinema on the internet, thinking it might make a nice distraction to go and watch a movie. I've been dying to see Bright Star, the period movie about John Keats, one of my favourite poets. Even more so out of rebellion after reading a pretentious review in the Sunday Times Culture Magazine, written by an equally pretentiously named correspondent called Cosmo Landesman who clearly can't separate 21st century (lack of) morals from 19th century manners and decency. Criticism such as "Their kisses are chaste, their conversation reserved" is poor argument for a couple who wouldn't have exactly pulled a tonsil-tennis moment, mostly because, in general, unmarried couples didn't do that back then, not to mention the possibility that Campion (the Director) was trying to achieve an innocence in their relationship. Anyone who has read Keats, particularly his letters, would see a young, passionate poet who was better at crafting words on paper than in person, "whose words are images of thought refin'd" (Oh Solitude); a man who read of love and dreamed in greek mythology but when confronted with the real deal himself, may have found conversation a challenge, unlike the willful, impetuous and, let's be honest, seriously hormonal Romeo and Juliet, who were all about the wedding night. No comparison really. Oh wait. Landesman did compare. Sigh. Therein lies the source of my rebellion. Romeo and Juliet, John and Fanny aren't. And that's the beauty: the former are fictitious, the latter were real people. Cold shower, Cosmo?

But I'm getting ahead of myself here, since I haven't even seen the movie yet. Anyone who questions the sweet tragedy that is John and Fanny's romance is going to push a few buttons with me. The greater tragedy here is, as it turns out, it's only on in selected cinemas, of which the nearest is about a 2 hour drive away. Oh how perfectly philistine my local town is. All these attempts to up the game of what was formerly deemed to be a dump and they can't even show a wonderfully cultural and literary period movie for longer than a week, apparently. The patrons obviously prefer what I consider to be lesser movies such as Saw VI (oh puh-lease... stop flogging a dead horse... was the first one even necessary?!) or Jennifer's Body (horror/comedy? I gave up on those after the first Scream decided to make a super franchise of such rot).

In fact, what is happening to the movie industry? Previously horror movies were generally shown on and around Halloween. Now we seem to have at least 3 different ones being shown at any one time all year round. Come on, people. Do we have to endure Horror as part of mainstream now?! I must sound terribly prejudiced against this one particular genre but I'm of the opinion that the world is horrific enough without the indecency of movie makers exploiting such graphic scenes of violence for general entertainment. Call me old-fashioned...

Actually I prefer to take the french view of such subjects. Sex and nudity is generally celebrated in film, whereas violence and gore is less acceptable and therefore more heavily restricted. Hurrah for the french. Not that I'm a big fan of too much sex and nudity in film either, but it's better than the other. Make love not war and all that...

So there it is. Today's two-cents' worth.

My pictorial weekend

Gotta love my life. Really. I may complain about it going nowhere right now, but if I was to use hot air balloons - my great passion - as a metaphor for my life, it wouldn't go anywhere particularly fast, but just gently and majestically grace the skies, turning heads and drawing great intrigue as it floats overhead. A thing of beauty. Just look at these photos. I took them with my cell phone. The daytime shot of Purple Haze was taken at the airfield where I currently work. This is the view from my office. The night time shot of Muu was taken at the airfield's unofficial fireworks night on Sunday, the day after Purple Haze cruised in for an easy retrieve for the crew. It's our tradition to do a night glow for the aviation community and we were lucky with the weather this year. It looked pretty hit and miss at sunset with the wind strengthening from the northeast - a direction notorious for not slacking off much. But two hours later we were surprised to see the winds ease and the sky clear, so out came the balloons and this was one of the shots. A great evening. A great weekend.
Times like these make me realise how privileged I am to have this unique opportunity right on my doorstep. I've always been interested in aviation and to be able to be a part of something like this is incredible. I may be in debt and have little opportunity to recover it right now but there are moments like this weekend that make life seem so much brighter.

Random nothings

My life seems slower these days. I had hoped to maintain a fast pace since returning from Calgary, ensuring that I don't get dragged into the 'pit' I seemed to wallow in last year. But it's hard to do when you go from a fast running stream to slow flowing molasses. That is the best metaphor that can describe what it is like here. Mostly it is the lack of full time job. I'm doing bits and pieces, and a lot of stuff if you list it, but it doesn't fill a day, nor does it earn much money. I had an interview within a fortnight of coming home. It was unsuccessful. Since then I've applied to, on average, 3 jobs a week. I've registered with several agencies. Job prospects are slim. It is very hard to maintain a positive attitude in this environment. No money, few jobs, big debts, and little chance of upward mobility. Hearing "lack of experience", "applications are at the interview stage already", "unsuccessful at this time" is becoming a daily event. And I'm tired. So very tired. Yet my days are so uneventful. I miss the morning commute. I miss the sense of purpose that a full time job gives me. I'm done with seeking fulfillment in small things. The era of small things was last year. Last year was my wilderness. I returned to Calgary to regain some clarity and I returned home with it. But where has it gone? Life seems to send me round in circles. Am I growing here? A wise person once told me not to remain in a place where I wasn't growing, even if that meant being away from a place of comfort. I thought I left that place behind when I left Canada. But I'm not growing here either. Growing fatter, maybe. I seem to have returned to the same place I left in June. I thought I'd returned a changed person. But I have come full circle and again the dredge and grind of my lesser existence here has overcome me.

And still I hear of bankers getting huge bonuses, living a reality that is so far removed from mine and 95% of the world. I watch footballers who play maybe 2 or 3 games a week earning more per game than I could ever imagine earning in 10 years. I hear musicians sing songs that have such offensive, uninspiring lyrics, but because it has a good beat and/or melody, or because the person singing/rapping/yelling released a good song in the past, the song becomes hugely popular and makes them another rich, iconic person to add to the multitudinous celebrities we all need more of... I see mainstream newspapers that read more like commentary and opinion than report, presuming the nation agrees with their biased discourse. It's an assumption that has made Britain an ugly place to live, where it is acceptable to publicly scorn Christianity and yet grossly racist to publicly scorn the beliefs of other religions. Just because Britain's era of "Christendom" has passed does not mean that you have leave to openly rebuke it. How quickly do you forget your heritage, oh England. You may not embrace it, but it is who you are.

When I hear the words of a popular Robbie Williams song, "Bodies", singing "Jesus didn't die for you, what are you on" over the radio many times a day I realise this country no longer welcomes me as its own. Who can stand such insult? And when I read a columnist from the Daily Telegraph take cheap shots at a major figure in the world of Christian song writing for the sake of a quick laugh, I see that Britain is no longer Great. I feel no patriotism when I see the cross of St George because the significance of that symbol has faded, much like the concept of Christendom itself. And yet the sacrifice referred to in that cross is being lived out on a daily basis by our troops serving abroad. Do they serve for Queen and country? For the flag? For the liberty of mankind? Their presence in the Middle East, while initially for noble causes, is now the reason our country's security is under such threat. That said, I support them in their endeavours.

But, alas, my passport may be British but I have no citizenship here. Not while the core of my being is constantly under attack from mainstream culture.

As the world turns upside down what difference can I make? Do I take a stand for my beliefs? Do I stick my head above the parapet and make myself a target for people's accusations and anti-religious criticism? Do I challenge the acceptance of mainstream? I must. Otherwise the very essence of my being is nullified. No more the silent onlooker, the one who turns the other cheek. Stand for what is important or be trampled by the tidal wave of overbearing culture.

Photo de Jour

This is Saturday night's launch. We've had so many great flying evenings I feel like I'm making up for the last couple of months when I've been in Canada.

Purple Haze on the left, Wizard on the right. Beautiful. Actually Purple Haze often looks kind of reddish in the low sun. I'd love to see how well she glows at night... Bonfire Night normally includes a Night Glow so we'll see! The whole weekend is set to be a mini balloon meet with daytime launches, barbecues and tea on the go. Never a dull moment at Headcorn :)

Sunday afternoon saw about 12 Tiger Club aircraft flying in formation. It was so thrilling! The air literally shook with the sound of the engines roaring overhead. It made for some interesting approach patterns afterward though! Any visiting or local air traffic had a long wait before they could land. Each time someone called up it was like, "Roger that, you're number 14". I saw a PA28 complete about 5 orbits before there was a free spot on final approach. Good times.

Just another weekend at Headcorn... :)

The story of cargo continued...

Cargo, cargo, cargo.

So I got on my flight back to Gatwick and arrived there safe and sound at 7:30am on Friday morning. We decided to head over to the cargo depot to see if my cargo was there or on its way at least. I suspected it wasn't but it was worth asking.

Getting to BA World Cargo from LGW South is relatively easy. Just travel towards LGW North and turn left instead of right when it comes to the roundabout at the end (right will take you to the car parks for the North Terminal). It isn't well signposted at the entrance but once you head down the road you'll see a bunch of signs for various cargo depots, the main one being BA. At this point there's just a big fence and a hangar that separates you from airside, which is very exciting for a plane geek like me.

Anyway we drove up to the Main Reception and I made enquiries about my cargo. My suspicions were correct. It was in a lorry waiting to be trucked to LGW but hadn't left LHR yet. They weren't sure when it was due to arrive, but my initial tracking estimate online said around 2 - 2:30pm. Since it was about 9am I decided to just head home and sleep. They would call me when it's in, and I could keep it there for up to 7 days without storage fees. I also asked how much money was due when it did arrive and they said £58.50. I completed the Customs forms on the spot, attached a copy of my packing list (good thing Jayne printed a few extra for me!! That gal's got her head screwed on...) and said I'd probably be back to collect the stuff on Monday.

So off home we went. I had a power nap for about an hour till lunch time, at which point the phone rang to tell me the cargo had arrived. 1pm. Not bad at all. Had another power nap (this one was about 2 hours...) till about 4pm. Can't believe how damp everything feels over here. Damp and cold. It was colder in my house than outside!! Getting into bed felt like there were two cold slabs of wet sheets surrounding me and although fully clothed I couldn't help but shiver. Who shivers while getting into bed, fully clothed, in late summer when the temperature is in the early 20s?!?!?! Doesn't exactly make for a warm and happy homecoming... But I knew I'd acclimatize. Just takes some getting used to. Don't think about what you haven't got.

Well, Monday came and I headed out to LGW again, this time on my own so I had more space to carry the cargo. I arrived and after about 5 minutes of preparing the paperwork for release, taking my money, which could be paid in CASH (there's one over the Canadians...), I was told to drive to the big doors with the ramp leading up to it and reverse up the ramp and wait for the doors to open. I did this, although part of me wondered if it was the right door when it didn't open straight away. I backed all the way in and the doors closed in front of me. Inside was this huge hangar with cargo stacks here and there, some cellophaned up, some just in boxes, some in crates etc. The guy who opened the door for me seemed to be just doing that - Chief Door Opener. I could do that job. Nice job. Wonder if they're recruiting... I gave another guy my release forms and he took them, jumped into a forklift and sped off into a corner where there seemed to be large shelves. He returned in no time with my black duffle bag and my green and blue tub. It seemed strange to see them in this unique environment, and stranger to think that the last time I'd seen them was in Jayne's house where they were collected. I think the transition would have felt less weird had I actually taken them to the airport myself. But I stopped myself from getting too nostalgic and tried not to think about the home I'd been staying in and the friendship and warmth I'd had back then, though gratitude for all Jayne's help lingered a little...

Anyway, we loaded the duffle bag into the boot/trunk and put the tub on the back seat. Good thing it wasn't ready when I landed. It would have been a tight squeeze! I signed the form to say I'd been given my cargo and it was satisfactory and off I went. Going down the ramp was easier than reversing up it. I didn't look back, just drove. I must admit that the service from BA World Cargo was amazing. The guy at Reception was really friendly and very helpful, much more helpful than poor Savio at the Toronto office, who seemed to assume that I knew what I was doing... I was always waiting for the catch, the hidden extra, the awful surprise but it never came. I can safely say that I would definitely use BA World Cargo again should I need to.

Let's break down the costs:

$3.60 per kg x 37kg = $133.20
+ $25 Airway fee = $158.20

That's all I paid in Canada. The pick up was free also.

Arriving in the UK I paid a customs and handling fee of £58.50, which is about $120

Total paid CDN = $278.20

The cost of my flight with 20kg of hold allowance, insurance and preselected seats with Air Transat / Thomas Cook Airlines = $360

Grand Total paid for coming home with a total of 57kg of luggage = $638.20

Total cost of a one way BA flight from Calgary to LHR with 40kg baggage allowance, as quoted on BA.com = circa $1400 CDN (ouch)

Total savings from shipping with BA but flying "cattle class" = $761.80

I'm still waiting for the catch... but there is none!

BA, I applaud your cargo services, I sneer at your passenger fares. But you're nice people and if I had the means I'd probably fly BA on most occasions. Just this time the pennies were a-pinching. So thanks for handling my cargo and for having such a nice bloke helping me at LGW!

Thomas Cook Airlines, your transatlantic staff aren't the most friendly I've met. Granted the flight was packed, but seriously that should make you work all the harder to try and make our journey as pleasant as possible, right?? Or have I been around too many amazing customer service people in North America, where they excel at this sort of thing...? Maybe I expect too much bearing in mind the price I paid for the ticket...

P.s. tell your flight attendants to s-l-o-o-o-o-w down when talking over the PA System. The majority of the customers on this flight weren't native English speakers, and those that were were from the Big Continent where people tend to speak more slowly... I'm from the Small Island and I couldn't understand you!

The story of cargo

It's been a while. My apologies. I've been preoccupied with helping my friend with her kids as well as preparing for the big homecoming. The latter is the main subject of this blog entry.

I'm documenting this as it happens because I think it is a good learning experience and I'd like to look back and see what I learnt on the way from the whole process.

I spent weeks searching the internet for reasonably priced flights back to the UK with the flexibility for increased baggage allowance and it seemed the only option was to purchase a British Airways flight at the extortionate price of $1400 for a one-way ticket which allowed me to bring 40kg of luggage. This is not a price I can afford so I had to look elsewhere. But the only flights that were affordable were the ones with a measly 20kg luggage allowance. There was no way I was going to be able to reduce my personal effects from the last 2 years to hit anywhere near that maximum.

So I looked into mailing some of my stuff, which would cost around $125 for about 20kg going surface mail. I felt uneasy about this so I bit the bullet and looked into British Airways World Cargo. Their price was $3.60 per kg plus a one-time airway fee of $25. If I was to ship 40kg of luggage the total amount plus the cost of the cheap flight (I found one for $360 all-in) would still be less than half of the price of a BA flight ticket. So cargo it is.

Having spent countless hours on the phone with their Toronto office I have finally had my 40kg picked up and delivered to the airport this morning. Pricing actually goes on the basis of kg or volume, whichever is greater. So my rectangular rubber maid tub that is 12.6 on volume weight and 17kg on actual weight will be charged for the actual weight, whereas my black duffle bag, which is 20kg actual weight and 25 on volume weight will probably be charged for the volume. Either way it seems like quite a fair deal to me, although I do anticipate extra fees at the Gatwick end of things with customs and handling. But I've been told it won't cost much more than 75GBP. We'll see though. Hence the blog entry. I'm at the first stages of this cargo story and while it all seems to be going pretty well I'm still waiting for something to surprise me. If it continues to go this smoothly I honestly think I'd consider this option again and/or recommending it to others in a similar predicament of moving countries.

The way it works is that my belongings go on whatever flight is convenient for BA and once it arrives in the UK I get a phone call in England saying that I can pick them up. I've sent them ahead of my own flight to give some space for queries/issues to be dealt with before I'm out of contact this side of the Atlantic. Should they arrive en Angleterre prior to me then my folks will get the call and I'll be able to collect my stuff at the same time as my arrival at LGW. If they don't I'll receive the call and will pick it up myself once fit to drive. They say to allow 4-5 days of transit time so I anticipate a phone call on the weekend or after, which works well for me since I arrive on Friday morning.

Still, it's only the beginning. Who knows what could happen. Here are my fears:

That there are hidden costs that I've not been informed about

That the costs that I have been made aware of are actually more substantial than initially estimated

That the cargo gets lost somewhere in transit (let's face it, it has to go from Calgary to Vancouver, then from Vancouver to Heathrow, then Heathrow to Gatwick. Anything could happen. $10 says it happens at Heathrow, if it does... Any takers?)

That I get maimed by Customs Duty / VAT on arrival in England.

I strongly wanted to emphasize the "personal effects" part in my customs form. I.e. don't shaft me, folks... This stuff has very little genuine monetary value. Please, God, no Jobs-worths at either end!! Please, please, please! Let them choose another person's cargo to be anal about!

Well, there it is. The story thus far.

To be continued...

--insert title here--

On Sunday Rod gave an amazing sermon during which he showed us a book made up of different coloured paper. Each colour represented the different stages of the Christian story. At the centre was red, which represented Christ and his sacrifice. But the page that stood out the most was the one after that. It was white: a blank sheet of paper that represented us and our part to play in the bigger scheme of things. He then asked what we would write on it as our contribution to this story. How would our lives impact the Main Story. I loved the symbolism. As someone who blogs and writes a journal, and ultimately as someone who sees such incredible potential in a blank page or an empty stage, this had a huge impact on me. What would I write?

He went on further to challenge the preconceived notions that have been drummed into us as 'children of the Reformation' -- we who have been raised to believe that our part to play is insignificant in the face of a terrifying God. He boldly quoted scripture where Christ says that we will do 'greater things than these', referring to Christ's miraculous works, and asked us how it is that we have forgotten this. I could feel my heart beating wildly because these words rang true in my soul, and reached for a deeper yearning that I've been ignoring in favour of my Reformation-based inadequacy. This is even in spite of the fact that in my Pneumatology class I learned about the Rhema (the pentecostal translation) and how the Holy of Holies exists within us. At the time it blew me away and my immediate response was that of Peter when he realised who Christ was and cowered in shame saying "turn your face from me, for I'm a sinner". I guess we all do that when confronted with who Jesus is and have our true selves exposed before him. How quickly I seem to forget these things and fall back on the 'worthless worm' theology!

I am grateful for the sermon because it reminded me of the bigger picture. All my striving and anxiety over where I should be, what I should do, etc, all seems meaningless when faced with this. This chapter has ended, I have turned the page and it is blank. This is not to say that I will forget all that has happened until now. That will remain with me because it has shaped who I am. But the new page is ready to be written on. Do I waste it with pointless exercises and repetitions of things that I know or do I step out in faith and boldly embrace change, praying that I never stop learning to love and never stop searching for God? I choose the latter. So insert your own title on this entry. I'll leave it blank as a symbol of that new page in The Story.

Missing ballooning

I've been watching some Lorraine-Mondial 2009 ballooning videos on Facebook posted by a balloonist friend and it's made me very nostalgic. Such wonderful pictures too! Great footage. I've only been twice but both times were magical (between the early starts and the late nights and all the craziness in between!) The second year I went (2005) I decided to make it a road trip. I booked the time off work and drove out Thursday night, arriving early Friday morning only to observe that the morning launch had been cancelled due to the risk of thunderstorms (and they get some amazing storms in the Metz area :) So I drove out to a nearby lake/resort, paid my day fees and decided to get some rest after the long drive.

A couple of hours into my slumber I decided to text a friend who I knew to be staying nearby. He responded and we met up for lunch/afternoon tea at a restaurant. I then joined them back at the airfield for the evening launch, where they invited me on the flight. It was a wonderful flight too! They asked if I wanted to take control but I was in tourist mode and declined. There's nothing quite like the atmosphere around the mass launch of hot air balloons. The sound of burners all around, the hum of inflation fans, the long shadows from the late afternoon sun (or early morning mist!), the stunning panorama of hundreds of balloons. From the ground you would think that balloons are able to steer on their own, but the differing wind directions at height can be incredible - especially at Lorraine.

My 2005 visit was a whistle-stop tour. Back in 2003 I came with a group of people and didn't have the autonomy to do much sightseeing. This time I came for the weekend under my own steam and drove around to many of the sights that I'd missed last time such as Butte de Montsec - a white circular, pillared Canadian war memorial on top of a hill that can be seen for miles. It's quite a trek to get up there but worth it. There's a cast iron map of the local area that features the many battle sites from World War 2 and the shifts in occupation. It's full of history. I stopped in local villages and took walks among 'mirabelle' orchards (like greengages), shopped for inexpensive wine (so easy to come by in rural France), baguettes, cheese etc. Such l'aissez faire... The pace is slow, the peace immense. Here is more than just balloons. I felt enriched by the experience. And it showed when I returned home. I acquired my mother's nickname for me, "Mim the Adventurer" after this trip.

So many adventures have been had around ballooning. I did an intense flying training course in Igualada, Spain. It was one of the hardest weeks of my life and I resented ballooning and balloonists afterward (well, one in particular), but forgave it in the months following, once I'd had a chance to forgive myself for not achieving the goal I'd set out to (obtaining my license). I think my adventure to Canada softened the blow for that one. I now look back and realise how fortunate I've been to have flown in 4 different countries - England, France, Spain and Canada - and how extraordinary my life has been. I could look at what I haven't got -- a stable career, a husband, my PPL, etc -- but what are those worth in comparison to the richness of the experiences I've had? I've had the freedom and flexibility to live the adventure. Even on my trips back to the UK I've seldom missed an opportunity to crew for a commercial or private balloon flight. It's addictive. If I see a balloon in the sky I can't help but follow it to see where it lands (and, in a voyeuristic sense, see who is piloting in case I know them!!) My name is still on official documents stating that I am the company safety officer for a commercial rides business and it makes me smile.

When the days that I don't see a balloon in the sky start to accumulate, the images on the computer become more vivid and enticing. I can't help but long for those days when the skies over Kent and Sussex are filled with balloons dotted across the horizon, to hear the burst of the burner in the early morning rouse me from my sleep and the sudden rush of excitement as I realise what it was that woke me and the subsequent scramble for clothes and footwear as I head for the door to find the source of the noise. I am like a child in these moments. But who isn't?

Today I reminisce the glory days of past ballooning adventures.

Rain

Feels like home... As in, it's raining and 9 degrees C. In August. And it's not that prairie rain that swooshes in, drenches the earth in a matter of minutes then hurries away. It's the damp, gloomy, misty kind of rain that lingers and soaks you through slowly but thoroughly. And I've got to take a bus in it. The Casses, who have been very generous in lending me their car, needed it back yesterday and I find myself without wheels and dependent on Calgary Transit once more. It's actually not so bad. I need the exercise and I can appreciate the city more by observing the world from my bus seat.

Two weeks ago we were baking in the scorching heat of the upper 20s / lower 30s (hot for Calgary) and were scorning the tv ads for bringing their "back to school" themes when summer was clearly not over yet. Now it seems the weather is doing these retailers a favour with autumnal temperatures and a general gloom that comes with the anticlimax of the departing high season. And no wonder there's a gloom. Summer lasts maybe 2 months? Then there is about 2-3 weeks of Fall then it snows and thus begins the greater season of winter that remains for up to 8 months. Spring this year, I am told, was somewhat hit and miss. We had a few days of glorious sunshine in April and May where the weather seemed to perk up and bring warmth to the snow-filled land. Then it would snow again, and not just flurries but huge amounts. When I arrived in June the temperature was as it is now: 9 degrees. It had hailed (but seemed as though it wanted to snow) and there was a lot of rain. The wind had a bite to it and the mountains were still quite white. And so I could still marvel at Winter's final days (although not the deep winter, but the final gasps of a season ending). But the Sun knew better and told of things to come when it emerged from behind the clouds and revealed the true power of its heat, as it should in June, making it too hot for jackets in the sun, but too cold without them in shade. Such an interesting part of the world.

So now I sit at this computer and write of other days while the rain soaks this city and the clouds obscure the sun. But it is mid-August and the sun has not lost the battle yet. Plenty of sunny days to come, and beyond that plenty of Indian Summers in late September, early October. I wonder if I shall still be here to witness and write of those...

Photo de Jour

Vulcan, Alberta. The Mecca for Trekkies. Founded in 1912 before the Rise of Roddenberry and his motley crew, this town made Star Trek its theme soon after the series became popular with a great little museum (white building in background, completed in 1998 I believe) and a whole bunch of murals down Centre Street, not to mention all the town's signs having the Star Trek emblem. Even the great Leonard Nimoy has visited and given his blessing on this quaint little prairie town in Southern Alberta.

I paid Vulcan a visit myself this morning and ventured into the museum, which is free to enter and has all sorts of memorabilia and a little sideshow that costs extra for those who want a walk-in multimedia experience. It also has a mock-up of the set and trekkies can dress up in all the garb and have their photo taken aboard. On leaving - ideally with your Spock Ears, Star Trek uniform sweater, cap, and a mug that says "I beamed to Vulcan, Alberta" - you are invited to sign the Guest Book, and here is where you can get really creative if you want to (although the most creative entry on my page was mine, and that was only because everyone else was from Canada and I gave my home town in the UK...) It's well worth a visit. Oh and to the left of this photo (not featured in it, sadly) is a board with pictures of the crew but with removable faces so you can replace it with yours and stand alongside your favourite characters. Since I was driving solo I couldn't get mine done, nor could I stand under the signpost for Vulcan, giving the Live Long and Prosper sign... Alas, I will have to return either at a busier time or with company. Until then, Live Long and Prosper, friends.

More storms! Yeah!

Innisfail, Sunday August 2nd 2009. This is a view after the storm came over, dumped a whole load of rain and made some noise. Taken from the Anthony Henday Campground while waiting for some friends to return from the wildlife park. It wasn't the most exciting storm of the evening - that came in Calgary when I returned home in the small hours.

2am and the still night was violently broken by 100km/h winds, intense lightning and heavy precipitation. The temperature dropped 10 degrees within 10 minutes and everything went crazy. I got some great footage of lightning on my cell phone but I'm having difficulty rotating the movie, which was taken in landscape, so that it is viewed right side up. Alas, I'm so tired from getting to bed at 3:30am I figure I'll tackle that one when my head is thinking more clearly...

Took the dog for a walk this afternoon and saw trees down and various debris everywhere. Talking with others it seems the entire city was hit by this with some people hiding in their basement because of the strong winds. There were a few moments when I wondered if I should be in the basement taking shelter rather than peering through the french windows filming the sky doing some damage. But I didn't want to miss anything. In some ways I'm glad this occurred at night because there would have been fewer people out and about and so less chance of injury or death (which unfortunately occurred the day before :( but also because the lightning was more vivid. Once the wind died down and the lightning was less intense I went upstairs for a better view. Thinking that the worst was over I thought I'd try and capture some cloud lightning as the storm headed away to the east. It's always the way: the storm was not done with my part of the city yet and 2 strikes occurred especially close, one of which made the alarm clock radio speakers click on the bedside table to my left. You never know where the 'streamers' are (those cute little mini lightning streamer thingies that come up from the ground in an attempt to connect with the 'stepped leader' from the cloud in order for the separation of charge to take place, thus creating the big lightning bolt... am I being too technical?) - it could be that one was coming from the roof of the house, in which case I was lucky it didn't connect. Scary thought.

Mum told me once that when lightning struck nearby it actually turned on her bedside clock radio. I wonder what the science is behind that?

Nature. So powerful, so mysterious.

Hello darlin'...

Now I've gotta say, as far as storms go, this one wasn't particularly spectacular, but it had its moments and a little later on dumped a whole load of hail on Claresholm, Southern Alberta. Of course, it did the amazing hail dump well after I'd given up chasing. But there was some nice lightning in the build up, which mad for great viewing.

This shot was taken on highway 7 heading west from Okotoks towards Big Rock. The crack on the bottom right of the picture is from the windshield of the Honda CRV I was driving in while taking the photo. Multi-tasking... Don't always recommend doing it this way cos there's no time to check how well the photo came out and often you end up shaking it or not getting the dimensions right etc. However, I've had some great pictures from this method so I guess it's worth it sometimes.

I haven't seen as many great storms this year as I'd have liked - at least, I haven't been available to capture them at the right time when they've occurred. One particular storm I regret not capturing occurred around the end of June / beginning of July over Calgary. The system was heading east onto the prairies, but the lower winds were from the south, creating the potential for sheer, not to mention a massively unstable airmass over the region: all the right ingredients for a supercell. I'd just come out from the swimming pool with a friend and noticed the storm brewing. What I also noticed was a swathe of cloud curving at the base as though the storm was starting to rotate. Looking at the direction of the upper clouds and comparing this with the lower clouds and where I could feel the wind coming from I immediately became suspicious of this storm. If anything it looked like it could produce some nasty hailstones. It was already active with much lightning.

We drove alongside it as we headed back to my friend's house and the kids all watched for lightning. It tried to rain a little but only managed a few splashes of large raindrops every now and then. We weren't close enough to bear the brunt of its force. I could see it was heading east abeam of us so I didn't think we'd see too much action. By the time we got home I'd missed the better angle and it had started to dump a whole lot of precipitation so I lost the shape too. It was a mass of dark blue interspersed with pink lightning. I sat and watched it for a while before giving up, knowing that the only chance I'd have to see what this sucker had got had already passed me by. Still, I wondered whether it was concealing something exciting behind that precipitation curtain.

A couple of hours later I discovered via the news that it had formed a funnel cloud but this had been shrouded by rain/hail from my perspective. Luckily someone had submitted a photo to the Weather Network so I didn't miss too much. At least I could still say that I witnessed the storm even if I didn't see the funnel cloud myself (although the suspicious looking swathe of cloud was probably the beginnings of it...)

But aside from that I've not seen many great storms. I've watched as an enormous cell headed north of the city and tracked it on the radar because I didn't have the means to chase it. Watching it pass by and seeing its structure was both exciting and painful - sensing it could produce some interesting stuff yet knowing I couldn't chase it. I monitored the radar back at home and watched the bright colours grow, change shape and form the usual 'hook effect' to indicate that the storm was rotating. I tuned into the Weather Network a little while later and anticipated their report: funnel cloud over Red Deer. Ha! I knew it!! Another one bites the dust.

So enjoy this photo. It's the best I've taken so far this season. Probably not the best shot but I haven't had as much chance to take many photos this year. I shall just have to immortalize inwords the ones I didn't shoot with a camera. C'est la vie...

Photo of the day

Vancouver Island. Taken shortly after take-off from Vancouver Airport. One day I'll return to explore you... Vancouver itself is not close enough. I want to see the Pacific, trace the coastline, lose myself in an adventure. The yearning to go west resides in me like it did in the days of the Frontier. The pioneering spirit is not lost on me, but I do not go to seek wealth and stability but beauty, adventure, inspiration and maybe the unexpected. These are the things that dreams are made on.

Back to the blog

Gotta love this view. My hotel room on the 28th floor of the Blue Horizon hotel, Robson Street, Vancouver. We arrived just in time for the sun to come streaming through our windows and french windows! I've gotta say this was the most enchanting trip. Vancouver was in bloom and the weather was so fine. Every time I think about it I'm taken to a happy place. The sea air, the blue sky, the mountains, the ocean, the islands, the city. It's like a dream. I think I may have even dreamt of this view many years ago. It was like I'd been here before.

Up until this point I'd questioned the logic and reasoning behind returning to Canada, and whether I had been stealing these moments as though I'd forced my way back in spite of every sense telling me not to. And then Vancouver. It was as if God had slapped me in His usual loving way and pointed out that I was in fact *meant* to be here, that it was not all rashness and impulse and in fact He had lined up this little treat from the outset. Yes, this trip was sort of spontaneous but who could have planned such an amazing view, with such glorious weather? All this time I'd been running around trying to justify my existence over here, trying to give it some purpose, offering my services here, there and everywhere. This was good and made use of (and I still do make myself useful) but this trip sort of illustrated that I didn't need to strive so much - that moments of value and significance often happen on their own. They cannot be forced or even worked for. They just happen. God was smiling.

Let's play the values game...

No, not the one my coach gave me about the 15 top values we all live by (although it's a great exercise to do) But the one that makes you think of the things you value the most.

I'll give you a scenario. Two people have access to one car. One person needs to go visit an elderly friend who is blind and housebound and often lonely. The other needs to go to the stores to return some goods and pick up some others. Who should have priority? The one visiting the elderly, right?

Okay so this particular scenario did occur but with a little more factors affecting it. The one who needs to go to the stores is the owner of the car. The other one is only borrowing it to run errands while the other doesn't need to use it. So the owner should have priority because they are paying the bill. But in the bigger scheme of things the value of the tasks differ greatly. One is self-serving (shopaholic), the other is serving others (pastoral). Unless, of course, you consider the self-serving to be vicariously serving others through the pastoral.

Either way, I'm drawn to consider why it is that in this part of the world (North America and probably Europe too) we spend so much time making money and spending money in the great pursuit of happiness. Does it honestly make us feel happier? From what I've witnessed these past few weeks it does not. I've seen someone spend so much money each day on items in the house and in the garden but at the end of the day the happiness is short-lived. Each day turns into a vicious cycle of momentary peace, then the discovery of something out of place, then the desperate attempt to fix it followed by a massive rearrangement that subsequently becomes another trip to the stores and then more rearranging.

Meanwhile I spent some time visiting with a 93 year old and came away feeling so completely blessed by her company and pleased that I could bring a little light into a person's day.

So it's really simple. What do you value the most - spending money or spending quality time?

I don't deny that spending money isn't fun, and when you're serving people who have money the perks outweigh the bind of the tasks.

But still, in my heart of hearts I am content with less and would far rather spend quality time. And you really don't need money to have a good time!

I yearn for people in this continent to slow down, take time and enjoy life for its simplicities. Reject the control money has over you. It will NEVER satisfy. Stop thinking in terms of progress and change and start thinking in terms of moments, beauty, stillness, and all the things we're often too busy to notice. Turn your back on the temptation to improve and perfect things. Perfection is a state of mind but not necessarily an achievable reality.

If you're a Christian who is ensnared in this crazy paced lifestyle, what are you running from? Why are you striving to fill a gap that can only be filled with your one true Saviour? Let go of the control. Cease striving. God already knows what you need before you even thought of it.

And one for me - stop trying to justify your existence through service. Your existence is for a purpose and that may only be revealed to you in the quiet times and/or desert places.
**************************

On board flight BA103 to Calgary

So, after that amazing crisis of confidence I sucked it up, packed, boarded the plane and headed to Calgary. Magical flight - dancing in cloud city, levelling out above the rain clouds with blue sky above and rippling white below. Stunning. West of Iceland I decided to spend some time enjoying the moment and absorbed myself with the panorama. I could see a line of what I thought was cirrus but could have been another jet's trail across from us. Then we cruised through our own little line of cirrus and as I looked across at the wide open sky I thought I saw another aircraft flying parallel with us about 20 miles away. I blinked a couple of times to see if it was still there. It was. But I couldn't see any wings. I tilted my head but still it remained oblong. Engines? I'm not sure. It was gradually flying away from us - it felt as though we were overtaking it gradually. I couldn't squint any further so I rested in the knowledge that it was probably another jet. But in the back of my mind I wondered... Maybe it was a UFO. Either way, I consider it a holy moment, reminding me that God is with me always - even up here in on my way to Calgary. With so many doubts racing in my mind this was a moment of peace.

However it didn't last. Well the spiritual peace lasted but my physical peace was disturbed by the onset of a headache around Greenland. This continued for the rest of the flight and was added to by a nasty stomach ache. Thus my arrival in Calgary wasn't quite as joyous as I thought it might be. In fact it was miserable. My heart did leap a little at the sight of Calgary but my stomach was in agony and so my reaction was toned down more out of self-preservation...

But I was in Calgary. I had made the trip.

crisis of confidence...

Just had a reality check from a friend and professional mentor about the Canada trip, which then turned into a serious contemplation of where my goals have gone and whether they took all my drive and motivation with them...

I can honestly say that I am seriously having second thoughts about the Canada trip. I don't mind confessing this now. It's only 4 more sleeps until I depart and while this is normally the time I get the strongest jitters that account for the majority of this lack of confidence, my friend's words dug deep. Where is my life going? For how long will I have to depend on my parents until I get the wherewithal to gain some independence? Is it really fair that they should invest in my dreams now that I'm 29? What happened to those dreams and goals? Where is my drive and motivation? What is it that motivates me?

The clean slate has its pitfalls...

This trip is going to cost too much money that I don't even have, take more risks than I'm willing to bare, and put my life on hold for more than I'm comfortable with... UNLESS the outcome is bigger than any of that. And for that I trust God. But in the forefront of my mind I am wondering if God is actually asking me to use the common sense He endowed me with and STAY HOME.

If Canada was as important to me now as it was a year ago there would be no question in my mind as to what to do: take the flight and go see what's there. But Canada isn't. I love the people dearly, but my life has moved on. I'm not sure where it's moved but it's moved. I've rediscovered my passion for aviation, realising that it is a huge part of me. Sure, I should take the flight and bring closure to that season of my life if this is the case. But where next? I've got a student loan to repay, a credit card bill that is about to be maxed out and no job or prospects (aside from a Saturday job that I just relinquished in favour of the Canada trip). So why do I do this? It's bordering on insanity. I've only just begun to feel more at home and less displaced and what do I do? Travel to Canada and probably make it worse again.

Today is a crisis of confidence day.

But having read Psalm 73 I do feel a sense of focus returning and the spiritual influence restored. Sometimes God shows us that the path that He wants us to take is often the most illogical one, and the reason why He chooses it is often to frustrate the wise and the corporeal-minded. I guess I'm looking at things from a worldly point of view today. The disappointed look that my friend gave me when I told her I was returning to Canada still haunts me. She is the one who believed in me when I didn't (and still does believe in me). Admittedly she bought me the ticket home because she felt Canada was holding me back from my true potential. Perhaps she is right...

There'll be bluebirds over...

The White Cliffs of Dover...

Well, that or a white and blue PA28...
There's something deeply moving and poignant about being able to fly over the White Cliffs of Dover, especially seeing the wonderful Battle of Britain Memorial as you coast out. It's the privilege that we live in a part of the world where we have the freedom to see that sight and know that it has seen some tragic dogfights that ultimately won us the Second World War. Knowing that I'm looking at a view that would have been seen by both German and English pilots during the Second World War and wondering what emotions were experienced by both and what thoughts were going through the minds of each pilot I encounter something bittersweet. From where I am looking in this photo we are flying away from the coast of England towards Boulogne and the coast of France. In fact our destination - Abbeville - was a key airfield during the German occupation of France where the infamous Messerschmit 109s were based. As a British pilot this view could have been the last glimpse they had of their home country before perishing over the continental soil. As a German pilot this sight could have been met with great relief as though on the home run, having completed their mission and now heading for home. So many mixed emotions - fear and anxiety to relief and exuberance.

Of course, today we were enjoying the novelty of being able to take a light aircraft to visit another airfield in the continent, have lunch there and soak up the experience; a huge contrast to the scenario 67 years ago. We enjoy peace and merriment - but this came at a price, and I feel it is only right to honour and appreciate the liberties we have today. It was such a wonderful experience though. I've flown across to France in a light aircraft before, visiting Le Touquet in a Cessna 172. The adventure never diminishes. And as for the cuisine - well that's worth the trip in itself. I would like to return by car some day and explore the area at greater length. You can't beat flying in, but we were in a huge crowd of British aviators and it almost didn't feel like France once on the ground, aside from the french menus, waiting staff and the occasional french aviator. But what a day... Abbeville itself is some km's away so the airfield was kind of remote, but it was a very peaceful, quaint little place with much gliding activity and a lot of campers. We entered what must've been the clubhouse first and tried to communicate with the locals. They didn't speak English but assured us (in French) that they spoke wonderful French, which I thought was hilarious. I wished I could've communicated in French to demonstrate that we aren't complete xenophobic philistines...

But we found the appropriate building shortly afterwards only to discover that the official was away for lunch. I love the French. So laissez faire... It seemed almost pointless to have brought our passports. No-one was remotely interested in seeing them. So we headed off to the restaurant for lunch and bypassed the office on our return to the aircraft. They also didn't talk to us on the radio. It's funny because it's not unwelcoming but more a sort of "do as you please".

On our return flight we were routing back to Boulogne again and I noticed that every time my pilot reached across to the right to adjust the transponder he allowed the aircraft to turn right. He corrected this the first time, but failed to the second time. He then wondered why the radio aids seem to indicate that we needed to turn left in order to be pointing in the right direction for Boulogne. I also wondered why he hadn't noticed that the compass was indicating that we were heading Northeast. My instincts were telling me that we needed to be heading North if not North-northwest. So it was no surprise when the kindly french air traffic controller (one that finally decided to talk to us) informed us that if we were routing to Boulogne this was at our 9 o'clock position (i.e. to our left). After correcting our heading the pilot mentioned that the wind must've been stronger up here than he'd anticipated. True enough. Admittedly he was doing his PLOG while airborne which would account for most of the errors. But we coasted out in the vicinity of Boulogne and the rest was pretty basic visual reference points. Once over the British coast we needed to descend from 5500ft to 2000ft so we pulled the engine back to idle and just floated down, warming the engine from time to time, occasionally sideslipping to kill more altitude faster (well that's one way of doing it). Everyone I fly with seems to enjoy putting the aircraft into a sideslip... Romey did it on final approach last Monday (which was hilarious!) and Aiden did it to descend today. It can be a dangerous manoeuvre but both seemed to know what they were doing, and it's also pretty exciting so I didn't mind.

Seeing Ashford then Headcorn and hearing the airfield over the radio was so welcoming. I loved the journey but always in the back of my mind there is a little fear of the unknown, and of the potential risks involved. Being on the home-run felt somewhat akin to what the wartime pilots must have felt, only probably more relieved having been a little more rattled. Knowing that Headcorn (or Lashenden) is a wartime airfield also adds to the novelty.

Such a great day, such a beautiful flight.

"Flight Operations - Here to Massage your Ego"

vs.

I've gotta say that today has been a "tread carefully - ego's present" kinda day. Testosterone was a-flowing. One very senior instructor wanted to book the 150 Aerobat for some aerobatics training. I was aware of an Airworthiness Directive on all 150s and 152s preventing spinning (and possibly other aerobatic activity) but wasn't sure if the problem had been fixed so I questioned whether we were okay with aero's in general. This senior instructor somehow interpreted this query as me questioning his authority and/or legitimacy to perform the aerobatic detail. Like I would dare to question such a highly decorated, well-seasoned instructor... Poor Ego. Let me massage you a bit. All those long hours of having people listen to you and heed your highly experienced wisdom must be taking its toll.

Generally known as Sky God to all (including most instructors) I cannot imagine how he could possibly perceive that I would be questioning his authority. All he has to do is look at me and I feel thoroughly inadequate for the job I perform. Luckily for me a senior mechanic was on hand to advise on the specifics of the AD. It strikes me as greatly peculiar how someone with nearly two decades of providing flying instruction and ground school tuition, not to mention the authority to sign people off for their Pilot's License could be so amazingly poor at communication. I am aghast. This is also not the first time his gross misconceptions have almost landed me in deep water and I have no doubt that in the one week I have remaining in this job it will not be the last. It's one thing to have a very male-dominated environment. It's another thing completely to have dominating pragmatist male environment. Three cheers for aviation!
Come on girls!! - get your instructor ticket ASAP!!

I wonder if mission aviation has the same trouble... I work in a highly secular environment, but there must be similarities. If so, I think I shall create a list of "things you'll never see on the official prayer letter but still need praying for". We are all human after all :)

Weary pondering

I probably shouldn't write when I'm tired but certain inhibitions are not present at such times and perhaps some truth will come out amid the weary pondering. Pondering. Sounds like something to do with a garden water feature. Say it lots of times and it becomes a new word entirely. Ponder ponder ponder. A person fascinated with ponds. A person who creates water features. A person who cleans out said water features. I'm not even going to bother looking up the real meaning. Let's stick with the false interpretation and go with that since it makes for light entertainment. Rather like contemporary news programmes, she says, cynically. Now that's taken things down a completely different track that I won't continue to pursue :)

Weary musings. It's all about Canada right now, and indeed has been for the last 4 years. If I track my serious motivations towards this country it all began in 2004 when I was bored of going nowhere at work, having to fly a desk instead of a plane or balloon and wanted some kind of release. I'd always put my life on hold in pursuit of aviation related activities and after many years of no success in that area I decided to see what else the world could offer. Thanks to a colleague who ran a travel consultancy and training establishment (alongside her day job in HR with me) the prospect of travelling became more accessible and I began to look for ways to escape the UK. I looked at Cyprus, France, Germany, Italy, Greece before remembering that my family had great friends in Canada who could potentially be willing hosts. I looked up flights to Calgary and they were relatively inexpensive to what I was anticipating. I wrote to my friends and thus began the re-ignition of a long term friendship and connection with Canada. Within a couple of months I had booked the flights, and later booked a rental car and a month before departure on the first 2 week holiday I had booked the hostels for our mountain escapade. I say "our" because 2 of my cousins came with me and became the best travel companions anyone could ask for.

Barely a week into the trip I realised that this was not the end of my Canadian adventure and a deeper calling beckoned me to return for a longer stay, perhaps get a job and experience living and working in Canada. The prospect was thrilling and also a little terrifying; I recall feeling sick to my stomach with excited apprehension. This was a big step. Would I be able to cope so far from home, away from familiarity, taking my first steps of true independence in one giant leap across the Atlantic? Being dropped off at the airport for our return back to the UK I felt a deep sadness that I would be leaving this stunning country and these wonderful people who I'd only just got to know. It brought a lump into my throat and on that flight I vowed I would return. Canada became my motivation, energising me, seeing me through the bad times at work, giving me hope beyond the crises of my failure at becoming a balloon pilot and allowing me to focus on something other than aviation for the first time in my life.

I did achieve that independence that had scared me on first acknowledging its possibility. I returned to Canada less than a year later and begun a whole new life working in retail, making new friends, discovering more about myself and about God. It was the release I needed. It was more than just a gap year. It was a turning point. For once in my life I could discover who I really was beyond the confines of the aviation-crazy girl everyone had come to know back in England. Few people actually knew about my aviation exploits prior to coming to Canada. In fact few people ever bothered to ask what I did before Canada. It was as if my life had only just begun and I embraced this new outlook and embarked on my new pioneering life. Here was where I could identify with Laura Ingalls Wilder in her pursuit of adventure, going into the unknown West, the new frontier.

But this came at a price. The more I was there, the more I forgot about my life before Canada. I began to take it for granted what a privilege it was to be there. The challenges of daily life took over. I never wanted to think of life back in England in case I discovered how homesick I could really be. So I buried myself in work to avoid it. I became increasingly workaholic. My relationships became too co-dependent. My life before Canada didn't seem to matter to my new friends and so it became irrelevant to me. But in severing this part of my life I lost a huge part of who I was. I became Mim the Youth Worker, the Assistant Manager, the Brit at Christian Publications (the bookstore I worked at). I forgot that I was Mim the Adventurer, the pilgrim, the one whom God loves, the one with roots back home and a wonderful 26 years of history prior to Canada. I feared losing Canada because this had made me who I thought I was. I had begun to dig roots there and was fearful of losing them - and yet it was always going to be a temporary thing; a season. I had convinced myself that somehow I could stay - that all the wonderful things I had contributed to life there would entitle me to be a part of its future. I had invested so much there after all. But it was a false reality and soon the true reality sunk in. I would have to go home. Canada, while wonderful, enchanting, hospitable, and homey was not my home.

Flattered by people's desire to keep me there, and their grief at my anticipated departure I convinced myself that I would not leave them for long, that I would return soon. Canada had become so much a part of me that I could not bear to think that I did not belong. Again - a false reality. Sure, a part of me belongs there but it is not all and everything to me. I did not realise it then, and indeed in the months to follow after my return home I still felt as though I had lost a huge part of me and grieved for it bitterly. It wasn't until I had got to a point of total surrender at the feet of God where I felt stripped bare of everything I had ever done - all the achievements, the ministries, the things I held so dear, the times of glory and of struggle all laid at the feet of the One who has been with me - that I realised what it was that really mattered and how far off track I had gotten. It didn't matter where I went or who I met or who believed or didn't believe in me. What mattered was who I am in Christ, that I belonged to Him and that in this knowledge I need not strive for anything - for status, for independence, for happiness, for satisfaction. In Him I have my being, my belonging, my identity, my focus and my life.

Suddenly Canada shrank before my eyes. Aviation shrank. All the things I held dear diminished. And yet I grew. The Spirit took over and peace reigned in my heart once more.

And then a world of opportunities opened up before me, as though I had the choice of anything - anything at all - and it could be done. I could go to Ethiopia to visit my brother and his family (something I should've done some time ago), I could visit my sister in Northern Ireland, I could even travel across the world to Australia if this was where I should be. But first Canada. The pendulum seems to have swung the other way now to the point that I sometimes resent it - or at least resent the hold it had on me for so long to the point of self denial. I know I must return and put some closure on it, resolve to go back with an open mind and a stronger will to resist the dissolving effect it has on my personality. I am not there to assimilate. I am not Canadian. I am British. I am Me. I do what I do and I think what I think. It seems sad that the pendulum had to swing so far in the opposite direction. Perhaps this visit will settle it in the middle somewhere.

I regret allowing the false reality of a permanent existence in Canada to take hold and for so long. I listened to people who did not know the true reality of my nomadic existence and allowed their attachment to me to influence my judgment of reality. I resented anyone who reminded me of the fact that at some point I had to go home to England, that I was really an outsider (something so painful to me!). I returned home and remained an outsider because I could not let go of my Canadian existence. That was the hardest part. Being an outsider in your own home and country. But this time will be different. I am aware of my boundaries and sense that the journey is a short one, and even if it isn't and I return once more to the life I became so fond of in Canada I enter with an open mind, my eyes open and my feet firmly on Solid Ground.

Musings over :)

East Cliff: My haven, my refuge...

There's nothing like spending a morning walking along the coast as the fishermen bring in their latest catch and follow them as the fish is prepared and made ready for selling in the local market stands...

I love this part of the world. Mum came with me and sat in the car as I made my way down the steps onto the seafront. She investigated her latest toy - a new camera - and sat there counting the ships along the horizon in one of the busiest shipping corridors in the world - the Dover Strait.

It had been raining overnight and so the beach was pretty much deserted apart from a few kids and an elderly couple. I made my way to the harbour where the seafood stands are set up and bought half a pint of whelks, then waited to see if any of the fishermen would entertain a conversation. Not feeling all that confident I chose to hover around the harbour looking out to sea and hoping to overhear some conversation. The stand began to get a little busier with people coming to partake of the fresh catch, so I watched them as they made their selection. On display were many different fish - skate wings, skate nobs, herring, lemon sole, turbot, cod, coley, huss, bass, mackerel, and I think I even saw a squid or two. I felt drawn inside to investigate further and eventually I walked away with a pound of huss. Feeling very pleased with myself that I had ventured beyond the confines of my usual order of shrimp, I marched back along the seafront and up the cliff (no mean feat) toward the car to announce that I had bought dinner for today.

Mum was pleased with my selection, although not so sure about the whelks. She took one look at them and confessed that she'd never tried one before and wasn't too keen on starting this morning. Shellfish don't look all that appetising whatever they are and whelks are possibly the least aesthetically appealing but Mum suddenly had a bold streak and decided to try one. They are more substantial than your average mussel and considerably chewier, but meatier as well which is a nice surprise. I imagine they're a bit more solid because they had to be boiled a lot longer. We're always a bit wary of locally caught shellfish because of potential pollution, but I prefer not to think about it and throw caution to the wind. Mim the Adventurer returns once more...

It seems hard to imagine that in a fortnight I'll be on an entirely different continent once more and will be significantly further inland, so it's all the more reason to make the most of the coastal visits while I'm still within 400 miles of one... And make the most of it I will. I can't get enough of this part of the world. People seem to write off places like Folkestone and Dover but there really are some fantastically beautiful views and East Cliff boasts of this a lot. Even the sounds give character to this place. The sea was quite calm and in the background you can hear a slight hum of the harbour docks echoing across the water. There was little or no wind and so sound carried for a great distance. The recent rain seemed to have soothed the tide and within 20 minutes the clouds had broken up and revealed the coast of France. I returned to the car but rather than peering outward from within I retrieved my deck chair and sat alongside the car where it was parked (and next to the passenger's side with Mum and her open window) and absorbed the panorama, munching on whelks and talking of life and the universe, all the while the ships continued to drift across the horizon, small fishing boats set out from the harbour and life quietly hummed along this little part of the world.

This is my haven. This is my refuge.

Into the blue empirion...

Mike Lima :) My bus for the morning flight. We took off around 11:30 and headed south towards the coast via Bodiam Castle, Hastings then Eastbourne. We then flew over the sea parallel with Beachy Head and then skirted the coast till Hastings then headed inland again. After buzzing Rob Davies at Woodchurch we headed west and rejoined dead-side then did an awesome sideslip approach before landing back at Lashenden. Absolutely stunning!! The viz turned pants on route back to the field so there were some hairy bits but it all cleared up within an hour to reveal a stinking hot sun and a super muggy day (which subsequently triggered some thunderstorms). I always seem to fly just before thunderstorms... Flying is such a drug though!! I find myself longing to be up there again, to feel the thrill of the flight and the luxury of such a great aircraft. So smooth and such great visibility from the cockpit! The blue empirion beckons me.........

Check out my second home - Headcorn Aerodrome:
www.headcornaerodrome.co.uk

Pic de Jour

French Riviera? Costa Del Sol? Lanzarotte? Noooo:

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present the Leas, Folkestone, Kent!

Love this part of the world.

And on this particular morning I'd just messed up a teacher training interview and needed nature to inspire me once more. It did me proud.

Pic of the day - A Pilatus PC12

This PC12 is operated by Mission Aviation Fellowship in Tanzania.

I'm posting this today because I've spent most of the day finishing off creating resources and activities for air cadets and non-church youth groups about the work of MAF. Above and Beyond is the youth section of MAF and we're trying to boost awareness of the work of MAF in more young people. It's quite an exciting time with air cadet squadrons opening their doors to MAF reps to talk about the work of this awesome organisation.

Who knows, maybe in a couple of years' time we'll be having mission aviation camps and sending groups of young people on field trips to Uganda... It's early days yet but I'm pretty excited about what's ahead. A potential link with the Air Cadet Organisation could be a great way for Air Cadets to fulfill the Residential requirement for their Gold Duke of Edinburgh's Award. Primarily, though, it is a great way to raise awareness and maybe get some fundraising underway. Here's to the way forward.

Pic of the day..

'Cos sometimes words are unnecessary

The Adventures continue

In just over three weeks I shall be returning to Canada after an 8 month sojourn home...

This is a bold adventure in some ways but also a trip to familiar pastures in others. It is familiar in that I will be staying with some of the wonderful friends I've made out there, attending church as normal, supporting youth activities, and helping out at day and residential camps (pretty much your average summer in Alberta). I will also be house-sitting for friends who will be going away for their annual vacations and so I will have a certain amount of independence too.

The boldness can be seen in that, while I am well provided for in terms of activities and accommodation, I have very little finance to support me while I'm out there. In fact I have yet to purchase my homeward flight! The past 8 months have been a time of wilderness for me as I struggled to come to terms with life back in the UK, the sudden change in environment, the loss of independence, the huge struggle with obtaining employment (and subsequent issues arising from that) and a sense of displacement. Spiritually I must confess to have been angry with God for this change and while I returned in obedience to what I sensed was His will, it was with a certain amount of reluctance and impatient anticipation for the "next step". I wrestled rather than rested and have come to realise that I needed this time to restore my strength, my faith and my focus. I have always searched for a place to belong in places and people rather than God. It was during a week-long conference with a group called International Christian Youthworks a couple of weeks ago that I finally crashed out and gave it all to God in humble submission. Ironically I was there to see if I could potentially join them. It turned out to be more about what they could do for me. They were a great bunch of people with a big heart for God, for youth and for each other and they really poured into me as though I was already part of their "family".

Since then I have found a greater peace and a deeper understanding about what these past 8 months have been about. I have confessed where I went astray, received forgiveness and restored hope in my heart. I have realised that I need to return to Canada to, if anything, put closure on it. Or if a new season is to unfold out there to embark on it with a fresh heart and a groundedness that I lacked during the final months last time. I am still passionate about working with the youth and church out there but this comes second to seeking God. This probably sounds all very "Christian-ese" but it's the only way I can communicate what's been going on in my life and it feels right to share it with you.

I cannot begin to describe what the past 8 months have been like. Desert. Wilderness. I've been present but not really here like it's been one hazy kind of dream. Does this sound crazy? Every time I've reached out to try and shake it off in my own strength I've not succeeded. I've battled with things from my past that were not dealt with, I've battled with my own sense of identity and now, finally, peace is restored, God is back in the Pilot's seat and I'm happy to let Him take control.

And now ahead of me lies another adventure. It's pretty much sorted but still my heart is anxious. The practical human side of me thinks this is crazy to return: I haven't exactly been in a position to earn a great deal over here and have some but not much money in reserve over there. Yet I feel God is telling me to go in faith. And there was me thinking that I was crazy the last time I went back after the 2 week break in 2007... At least I had the prospect of a work permit and income. This time is much different because there is no job, no work permit and while I only expect to be there for up to 3 months max, no flight home at the other end as yet. Go in faith, go in faith. How do people do this?? Don't get me wrong, I have some times of serenity and peace when I leave it all in God's hands but then the human side takes over and wonders if I'm missing something - a job offer over here maybe, or a chance to get settled, or an opportunity that falls in the middle of when I'm supposed to be away. This is uncharted territory here requiring much faith...