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Showing posts from May, 2009

FCB or ABU?

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Well, did you watch it tonight? Were you disappointed? I was... I really hoped that Deborah would crash and burn, or given the result of the task, that Lorraine would get the order of the boot...
Sorry? Am I at cross purposes here? Oh, you thought I was talking about the Champions' League Final. No, I was watching Suralan put his minnions through their paces on a Shopping Channel challenge. I had absolutely no desire to watch Manchester United against Barcelona. Had my beloved Liverpool got through to the final I would perhaps have re-arranged my evening accordingly, but I dreaded watching in case Manchester United won...
I have such antipathy towards Manchester United (like many others if the response on Facebook to last night's result was anything to go by), that some might assume that I am a fully paid up member of the “Anybody but United” supporters club… I’m a bit like that in international sport too, where, in both rugby and football I will support almost anyone playing a…

The Irreplaceable You

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Well, at last, after 12 weeks (with 6 of those weeks spent in the garage) my faulty car was replaced by a bright, shiny, newer model with fewer miles on the clock and a couple of extra bells and whistles. There wasn't that much wrong with old Wesley (not named after the illustrious founder of Methodism, but because of the registration plate which began WEZ), just a warning light that kept coming on for no diagnosable reason, but the chief salesman was eager that the good name of his company should not be besmirched and so he offered me a deal which was WAY to good to pass up, and so on Friday last it was goodbye Wesley and hello Ruby, who is a nice shiny Rubi (sic) red.

My wife and children preferred Wesley's colour, which was darker and less flashy, but a few days in they have been completely won over.

This time last week I went to a special evening with our Rainbows Unit at church (4-6 year old girl guides for the uninitiated), where they were presenting a cheque for some mone…

The Haircut

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This has been doing the email rounds for aeons, but never has it seemed more pertinent:

One day a florist goes to a barber for a haircut. After the cut he asked about his bill and the barber replies, 'I cannot accept money from you. I'm doing community service this week.'

The florist was pleased and left the shop.

When the barber goes to open his shop the next morning there is a 'thank you' card and a dozen roses waiting for him at his door...

Later, a cop comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay his bill, the barber again replies, 'I cannot accept money from you. I'm doing community service this week.' The cop is happy and leaves the shop.

The next morning when the barber goes to open up there is a 'thank you' card and a dozen donuts waiting for him at his door.

Later that day, a college professor comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay his bill, the barber again replies, 'I cannot accept money from you. I'm doing community s…

We Foster, we Obfuscate, we Rationalize...

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I've kept quiet about this, both on the blog and in real, face to face conversations, largely because I don't want to get caught up in the baying mob brandishing pitchforks and blazing torches that currently seem intent on storming Westminister as if it is a latter day Bastille. I do think that it is a bit rich that the Daily Telegraph has led this (chequebook-fuelled and sales-boosting) crusade to clean up British parliamentary democracy (and don't start me on the Daily Mail jumping on their coat-tails), given that the Telegraph is owned by two charmers who live in tax exile and recently threw a lot of employees/voters on Sark onto the dole because they didn't vote the way they wanted them too in their first free elections in 450 years. The Barclay brothers - arbiters of democracy... I think not...
This is a much more complex issue than the media would have us believe. Some of the claims that have been ridiculed (mango sorbet is one that springs to mind) would look just…

Guilt and Gratitude

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Another apple that fell almost fully formed as I listened to Karine Polwart in her concert last week... in this case I don't know exactly which song or line prompted it...



I carry guilt and gratitude in equal measure
Both generally ignored
For different reasons
While I get on with life

Guilt when I read of the poor of the world
And watch the wars waged on prime time TV
Gratitude when I consider
The prosperity and peace I enjoy

Guilt when I hear of the struggles
Of previous generations
Gratitude when I consider
The comparative ease of my life

Guilt when I look at the legacy
we are leaving to our children
Gratitude when I consider
The world into which I was born

Guilt when I speak to the victims
Of our recent local conflicts
Gratitude when I consider
The few miles and education that kept me and mine safe.

Guilt and gratitude
Pointless if periodic
Prompting swift, if heartfelt, prayers
But making no difference
To a life lived now
And in the future
David A. Campton © 2009


Selah

Sea and Star

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This is "an apple" that fell, almost fully formed while I was listening to Karine Polwart as she sang "You and I and the Sky" at her concert in the Black Box last week as part of the Cathedral Arts Festival. This may make it seem that her performance was so bad that I was day-dreaming my way through it, but far from it. The poetic quality of her songwriting allied with the haunting beauty of her voice is truly inspirational. Like any good art it sparks off tangential creative impulses in others who are receptive, and this song, indeed the whole concert, did such for me. The song above is actually about a love affair between the boat "The Maid of the Loch" and Loch Lomond on which she previously sailed, before being laid up at Balloch. It prompted the following poem which, I suppose could also be understood as a love poem, but which primarily expresses something of my developing understanding of faith as journey, rather than as something which, a la the BB…

Where do Poems Grow?

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The BBC are currently gearing up for a series of poetry-themed programmes over the next few weeks. I don't know what prompted it, whether it was the appointment of the new Poet Laureate or whatever (Clive James has written a superb piece in the light of Carol Ann Duffy's appointment for Radio 4/BBC Magazine), but I look forward to tuning in to a few of the programmes. I'm partial to a bit of poetry, particularly where it reflects a spiritual engagement with the world: be it the dense metaphysics (combined with sexual frisson) of Donne, the surreality of Blake, the interweaving of modern Irish interests with classics to be found in Heaney, the earthy spirituality of Woodbine Willie in the face of the horrors of the western front, the more contemporary and popular, yet no less potent work of Stewart Henderson or Godfrey Rust, or, of course The Psalms...
I have often used poetry to reflect on different issues myself, from the years when teenage angst overflowed in pages and p…

Life... Don't Talk to me about Life...

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This is just a brief placeholder to note that I haven't gone away... much though some would like me to. It's just that life has gotten in the way of creative thought recently...
It all started with trying to get away for that week-end in London... I think any final reserves of physical and mental energy were rung out of me at that point... Then there was the crazy run in to Easter... 16 events to prepare for in one week... but then as so many of my "friends" point out (each one believing themselves to be totally original) it is my "busy time of year". They will encourage me with similar words in the run up to Christmas...
By Easter Monday I was only capable of sitting in a corner and gibbering... But I had a few days off that week which I spent with my family and totally away from computer and phone, and that was good.
But in the background have been physical problems (the joys of getting older but forgetting that fact on the football pitch) and an ongoing i…