Oh muted world (diary of blocked ears, day 4)

Oh muted world... I miss the sounds of nuance, subtle inflections during conversations, the heady whispers of secrets shared and the lowered voices intoning information. Though I’ll admit it’s generally better to dim the gigantism of children’s voices that echo in our small home lest the echoes reverberate in my head (I have endless patience right now... I wonder why?)

But still the birds sing and I can hear them, muffled may they be through my imperfect hearing. Still the air holds songs of jets and engines high and low and I can trace them though not as accurately. Loudest yet is my own heartbeat and breathing as though my own self is larger than life. This irks me somewhat. I prefer my presence to be felt but not overbearing. Here in my muted world it’s all about me and this makes me uneasy. A small lump also sits in my throat - perhaps resident to remind me of tears not shed (though many have been this past year) and yet so many are waiting, such is the depth of my grief so often hidden and obscured by banter and comedy, busyness and feigned candour. To pause seems akin to death as reality pierces my heart over and over. 

But still the birds sing, their tune a joy and a wonder in this bright sun, easing the pain of a thousand years I feel. Tribute to the breaking spring. No toiling or spinning here, a reminder that all shall be made new and of a larger love still at work in everything. 

More horizontal epistles (of mild rudeness)

I was thinking about friendship today.  Friendship and adulting.  The tiniest things can really make all the difference.  For example, there are certain thresholds you cross in order to cement a friendship; things I think as grown ups we take for granted.  Adulting is a fantastic occupation but requires enormous strength (for me at any rate).  I was at a dinner party hosted by a friend the other day and we were introduced to a new associate who we didn't know well but wanted to get to know more.  We shared the cooking and participated in conversation and then sat down in the lounge for after dinner drinks and more chats. Now at this point I have to share that my friend is the type of person who likes to present a pristine image of calm, warm, mildly perfectionist demeanour.  Everything has its poise and place.  She is a *lady*.  When it was time for our new associate to leave we got up to show them to the door but as we did my friend let rip a rather large, bubbly-sounding fart (the perils of chick peas in my humble opinion).  The grown up thing occurred in that we all pretended we heard nothing and I kept it together, which, for those of you who know me the most, is a miracle in itself, and continued to wish our new friend a good evening.  A win for Mim.  For now at least.  However, like a brewing flatulent itself, after they'd left I turned to my friend, gave them a big hug, thanking them for such a lovely evening and while they were still in my embrace I couldn't resist any more.  I whispered into their ear, "I just want you to know... that I totally heard *that*", at which point my friend collapsed in my arms and let out a big sigh, "ohhh nooo I'd hoped no-one heard..." Quite how anyone could have missed it is beyond me.  Triumphant adulting. Furious giggling ensued afterwards.  Adulting suggests that we pay no attention to these digestive pyrotechnics for the sake of courtesy and politeness.  Friendship bends those rules.  We crossed a threshold that evening and have been close ever since.  

Horizontal epistles

Lying on my side looking out the window from my parents' bedroom I have occasion to marvel once more at the sky and the landscape in all its youthful beauty as spring emerges.  It feels like a it's been a long winter but this is more an internal situation.  The sky is a patchwork of cotton balls and grey-white blankets and although it's mostly cloudy it still feels bright.  This view never tires.  I've observed this patch of sky for 39 years as it arcs over my childhood home.  It's been greeted by all the things that stirred my heart and made me fall in love with the sky: planes, microlights, helicopters, hot air balloons, airships (yes, even those rarities), birds of prey and thunderstorms.  This is the stuff of dreams and adventures.  And I'm here once more to rekindle that fire in my heart and my stomach. 

Well, truth be told, I'm here because I'm unwell and life has had to slow but I'm taking advantage of this time of respite and recovery.  I'm also taking a little license by using a title familiar to any Adrian Plass lovers.  I'm no Andromeda Veal - or Adrian Plass for that matter - but the title amuses me and is apt during this era of bedridden lurgy. 

During these past few days the precipitation seemed to glisten as it fell, like some sparkling gems were falling.  It turns out it was sleet falling in the faint sunlight.  Spectacular.  Even if it snuck in a little wintry shower during my springtime celebration.  But this is April and according to Dad it's normal.  Trueness: it snowed heavily on my grandmother's 80th birthday (April 8th) in 2008.  I love these little memories and anecdotes on weather. 

Dad kept a daily record of the weather and temperatures here from the 1960s all the way up to the early 00s, when, after another battering from a stormy season, his weather box finally gave up the ghost.  'Twas a sad day and we have tried to hook him up to the latest gadgets but he opted to retire from this long-haul hobby.  But if anyone wants to know what the weather was doing "on this day, 1977" Dad is your man.  Well, for this part of the world anyway.  My love for weather and the sky comes from him I suspect.  The utter geekdom about planes and aviation is something else entirely. 

Apparently I could draw planes before I could write my name.  This continued into my teenage years when I flew solo in a light aircraft before I had passed my driving test.  Some might say I like to do things the hard way.  I say, well, yes... but isn't it also about carving ones own path?  Pioneering.  I don't know.  Look at the sky.  It does its own thing and we are affected by it all.  We can predict and forecast but never get it correct every time.  That's sort of how I see life.  Roll with the unpredictable.  It builds resilience. And makes for a good adventure.  Probably why I opted to learn to fly hot air balloons.  How do you steer a balloon? - any way the wind blows (cue a well-known Queen song).

Choonz

Music is life. I’ve decided to blog again and maybe share a few songs I think are anthems for the moment. Not necessarily indicative of any political mood but more my own mood. Just for funzies. If you want political or sarcastic see my other blog “Rabadashtheridiculous.blogspot.com”. Name refers to a Prince from C S Lewis’ The Horse and His Boy who made a mockery of decorum, gentility and public office, made some bad choices and ultimately the people (assisted by Aslan) deposed him. But enough of this.

Choons: right now I’m totally into Harmony Hall by Vampire Weekend. Usually I’d see the name of the band and think “whaaa?!” and wonder if it’s trying to appeal to a certain teenage demographic and so steer clear since I am most certainly not in that age category. Props go to Stephenie Meyer for making vampires mainstream and, well, a little lame, not to mention synonymous with teenage angst. Nice work, Music Producers. Somewhere in the hallowed halls of record production there’s clearly a department whose sole job is to find a suitable name from a vault of cookie-cutter boyband-sounding ham-fest names that they pluck these crazies from. I can imagine the board meeting. “You fellas have a great sound. We want to market you well so let’s give you a name that’ll appeal to the mainstream market of hormone-fuelled adolescents. Any ideas?”

Terrible band name aside though, this is a chooooon!! Harmony Hall!! I highly recommend it. Even if you feel a little guilty listening to a band who are likely idolised and fantasied over by kids a third of my age. Dangerous though. Stick this in your Apple Music or Spotify and they’ll start suggesting other tracks from “similar” bands. I threw Spotify a curve ball though. Created a playlist with this, then ACDC tracks, then a bit of T’pau etc. Mwahahaha..

Eclectic.

Yeah, music is life.

Words are back

Wow. We had a Prayer Vigil on Good Friday night from 7pm till midnight but it didn't feel like 5 hours. Kids showed up to stay for an hour and left after 2. More kids showed up than I had ever imagined. The Prayer Wall and the Prayer Tent were firm favourites for them. One parent was so overcome by the profound creativity of her son that she was moved to tears. I could understand why: There were some crosses made out of ice lolly sticks, some 3 inch nails and paper crosses on which to write your prayers. He took one of the lolly crosses and pierced it with a nail (which was no mean feat.) On the paper cross he drew a picture of Christ, pierced holes in his hands and feet, wrote "Jesus Christ crucified" and "I died for my world" and then stuck it onto the nail itself like the spear piercing Christ's side. Incredible. When we joined together on the hour to read through an Iona Prayer and some scripture he offered to read the passage. At the age of eleven and having not read aloud for over a year he bravely stepped up to read the 21 verses, with a little assistance for the words that were too demanding. He also stayed the whole 5 hours till midnight. I cannot adequately describe this experience, only give snapshots of some of the things that were going on in that place.

Who can say where time went that evening. Hours felt like minutes. We joined together for Iona Prayers then went to our other stations for the rest of the hour (prayer wall, prayer tent, meditations at the cross, mission zone, Bible zone, Passover scene, or simply the pews) and yet time passed so quickly that before we even realised it the bell was chiming the hour once more. Unbelievable and yet strangely believable.

Heaven touched Earth and none of us are the same. All my anxieties melted in that place. There were battles going on for sure - those who were more perceptive to that stuff could sense it. Felt like a raging storm within me had died down. One man prayed a prayer that those who had been grieving for too long could move on. That prayer pierced me through and through. I came away and wrote in my journal how if I could pray one prayer it would be that my words would return and all the things that come in the way of my inspiration would be taken away and that I could write objectively about the wilderness time. I basically wanted the pain of loss to ease, the huge obstacle of anger about where I am to be removed and all the anxiety about my life and my future to ebb away. Words returned. I have a new understanding about myself and I can look with new eyes upon the world.

Yesterday I was gazing out the window as the sun sank lower and saw the weather front that was forecast to bring wind and rain on the horizon. But it didn't appear to me to be 'just weather'. I was in a ship on a sea of inky blue and the bank of cloud on the horizon was an island getting closer. I remembered how much I love the sky. It was a swathe of blue/grey with a couple of horizontal beams of thin cloud. Edging closer I knew I would see it arrive before the sun set but it brought no fear or gloom in my heart to know that the clearer skies would soon be covered and the still air would soon be stirred. It was more like an excitement of anticipation. Strange that the imminence of cloud and rain would not make my heart sink like the sun. New eyes.

I am tired, of course. I had only 4.5 hours sleep that night, to be awoken at 5:30am in order to reach the church by 6 to commence the final hour of prayer. I then had a full day's work. And yet I did not feel at all groggy or wasted like I normally would. I accepted that I was tired and therefore had a limit to what I might be able to endure and so was more relaxed. My colleagues noted this also. Other days would have seen me irritable and a little spaced, but not yesterday. The other-worldly strength seemed to reign within me. It spread as well. One pilot who knew what I had been doing asked, partly in jest, whether I would pray that the radio in his aircraft, which had been playing up for the past few weeks, would work okay. I said I would and he left to fly his student. He came back a couple of hours later and informed me that my prayers had worked and that the radio worked fine for the whole flight. Incredible. Prior to this the radio had been working so badly that the other instructors had to take a handheld radio with them in order to communicate with Air Traffic Control. It would switch itself off, reset its frequency unprompted and automatically go to the emergency frequency, sometimes mid-sentence. But not yesterday.

I am excited by what God is doing here right now and looking forward to seeing the results. This vigil has changed us, unified us, blessed, commended, challenged, cleansed, purified. It seems silly that it should surprise me how amazing God is, but I guess I just needed a change of focus to bring things back into perspective again. We are in different times and no matter frustrating I have found it being back in the same village, doing the same things, seeing the same people day in and day out that I have done for the first 26 years of my life, it is not the same and I need to remember that. Objective eyes. These are what I prayed for and ultimately what helps me bring my world to yours.

Who stole my words

Hey
Long time no write. 3 months in fact. Steadily becoming less opinionated - or at least less vocal about my opinions. The wind has been removed from my sails. Life has become intense once more. Can't understand this life. One minute I'm in a country that I love, the next I'm back at a place that's far too familiar to me, surrounded by all the things I thought I'd left behind. Words at a loss. Everything that felt real and inspiring to me is suddenly not what I thought it was. People are not who I thought they were. High hopes are dashed. I'm chasing my tail once more. Seek purpose in the familiar things, but inside there is this craving for more - an unsettled aching for an adventure denied me. No, this is not "the grass is greener". It's a true deep and spectacular longing to escape the old patterns, the old ways, old habits before they consume me entirely. I refuse to succumb to the lure of familiarity. That pioneering spirit is within, wrestling to break free. There is that sense of 'Calling' to be in this place right here, but who is called - I mean really? I'm not even sure there is such a thing. Did I just settle for the next best thing? There is a sense of place here, I'm aware of that. But so much emphasis should not be put on one small thing lest it fails - and it will do quite spectacularly. So I return to routine, allow my senses to be dulled and wait for something extraordinary to happen to me. Lightning bolt of inspiration? Or someone to walk in with a machine gun to end it all? Grim thought.

But at least the words have returned.

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...