New Media

'I can't see the point of new social media. How do you have time to do Facebook?'

A number of people have said that to me and I guess there is only one answer. If you want to do something badly enough you always find the time for it.

Last Wednesday an old friend noticed my Facebook status of 'going to London' and offered to meet me for a drink if I got there an hour early, which I did. We then spent a very happy 75 minutes in a conversation which began, 'So, how have the last 20 years been?' Brilliant.

A second thought. For those of us who love the content of inter-action, as compared to the emotion of it, a conversation through social media is perfect. A relationship is reduced to content alone and as far as I am concerned that is fine. In fact I can build up a content-based relationship to the point where I fancy I might like to meet the other person but to have to do emotional engagement at too early a stage is not my preference.

Sub Text

I'm disappointed nobody has asked about the text I put under the title 'And I. Hail...' So, before I delete it altogether, a brief competition. What is the significance of those words and/or their relationship to the name of this blog?

Special Screening

Having been invited to contribute to Damaris' tie-in resources to be published alongside the film Creation I was able to get to go to a special screening at the Odeon, Covent Garden yesterday. I won't write a review of the film yet. I'm sure all the other media types who were there understand that there are rules about when reviews can be published. As a gate-crasher in the the house of luvvie no-one told me. To be on the safe side I'll leave it a bit.

There was one screen with 'Special Screening' over the door and we all got ticked off a guest list (well some did - by the time the doors opened there was a scrum and anyone could have walked in). It was a joy to see a film without previews and adverts for a change.

Fascinating also to be given a copy of the production notes including the wonderful line, 'For talent requests and further information please contact...' I expect that means something about interviewing stars not, 'Please may I have some talent.' The notes include a copy of the synopsis, details of the cast and crew and location and background notes.

Creation is coming out to coincide with this year being the 150th anniversary of Darwin's 'On the Origins of Species.' It's an enjoyable film. Comes out 25th September.

I am getting better at writing in the dark.

Accident

The vehicle in front of me stopped without warning. I slammed on the anchors but the vehicle behind didn't, ploughing into my back. Another vehicle coming out of a side road failed to notice that the traffic had not passed and rammed me in the side. Can't people learn to drive Tesco's trolleys more carefully?

Yesterday

I think the one thing I am grateful to God for is that, despite three services to lead rather than preach at, I enjoyed yesterday. I think I am reaching the stage where I thrive on the unknown rather than wanting it all planned perfectly. This came together best in the evening where a few nods and winks exchanged between worship leader, preacher and MC led to a nicely flowing sense of worship, prayer and teaching without someone having constantly to jump up and introduce the next item. Also the sound was particularly well balanced (well done Andy).

Announcing that we would not be sharing a common cup for the near future due to the pandemic led to a few interesting responses:

Don't we have any faith?

Can't we use little cups like the free churches?

Are we turning the cup of blessing into a cup of cursing?

For me, drinking the cup on behalf of the congregation was special, moving and poignant. Maybe over the weeks to come we will (because we are evangelicals) invite different members of the congregation to be the representative. Just a thought. Anyone who says 'me, me' is disqualified.

The age group mainly represented at the all-age service was 60-70.

The monologue referred to in the comments section of the previous post was 'Health Centre receptionist receives call from Lazarus asking for a check up.' You could probably write it yourselves now. 'Why do you want an appointment if you're feeling fine? ... You used to be what?'

It rained pretty much most of the day.

Today

I'm leading/presiding at three services today. You can't get much more variety than a Book of Common Prayer early communion, an all-age informal communion and a New Wine style evening service with worship, word and response (I wish it was wesponse).

I spend some time in my study before such Sundays, thinking and praying my way in. I have to say that I'm a preacher at heart and not a service leader so I need to pray for grace and gifts to do today well.

This Sunday's extras include two families who are leaving us after many years and an explanation about swine flu with the reduction in touching this will lead to. I have no idea how many (if any) children will be at the all-age service.

That was what was in my head at 7.30 a.m. I'll see what happens later and maybe tell you.

Swimming Costumes

Fascinated to read of the new technology that has produced another all-in-one swimsuit which will cut records by the dozen this season. It takes up to 40 minutes to get it on and is so uncomfortable (say the users) that every swimmer who completes a race wearing one has it half off before they leave the pool. Crushed nuts anybody?

Maybe the secret of the record breaking is to make a cossie so uncomfortable that everyone goes fast to cut down the length of time for which it is being worn. Inside-out barbed-wire speedos anyone?

Which reminds me of the joke about the cross-channel swimmer who completed the Dover to Calais swim in three days and five hours but managed the return in 47 minutes. He got his trunks caught on the pier railings.

Bristol Museum vs Banksy

A queue snaking round the outside of the building and a 'waiting time one and a half hours' notice; I've not seen this outside the big London exhibitions and collections. The draw of Banksy, having accepted some sort of invitation to exhibit at Bristol, is such.

Street art has challenged me over the years. I used to think I was consistent in my view that graffiti was illegal and therefore bad. I liked the idea of designated street art areas and have worked with, or encouraged, groups of young people on estate walls, underpasses and dull church hall rooms. But things glimpsed from the train or painted over motorways? Surely bad?

It wasn't until I realised that from time to time I laughed at, or enjoyed, the illegal pieces that I fully understood I was actually engaging with them as art, not vandalism. I tended only to think of them as a bad thing if I didn't like them. Hypocrite? Oh yes.

There has been much talk and publicity about Banksy at Bristol. The title 'Bristol Museum vs Banksy' tells you all you need to know. This is not a separate exhibition. This is the museum allowing itself to be remixed.

Consequently the public are forced to walk round the entire museum to see what he has done - a rat with a backpack and spray gun in the middle of a natural history display of mammals. A prosthetic penis amongst the stalagmites in the minerals section. And amongst the pictures many by 'Local Artist.'

There is a remarkable installation of a zoo. A security camera looks over a nest of two smaller camera chicks. Tweety Pie looks tired and depressed and his eyes close and open. Processed meat and fish products are given life back. A fur coat lies in a tree, its belt swishing backwards and forwards.

Elsewhere, great statues are enveloped with urban decay and bondage kit. The Buddha has been in a pub brawl and sports a bruised fist, black eye and sling.

Down the road in Park Street (on the wall of a sexual health clinic) is the famous mural of the man hanging out the bedroom window while the returning husband looks for the adulterer. Recently someone threw paint at it. It has been cleaned up. Now I don't know if it was the artist himself who threw the paint. All I do know is that is is being cleaned up and restored. The street artist's apparently illegal work is now being restored by the very people against whom he transgressed.

Banksy's identity is much discussed. Nothing to add except that this humour is well-educated.

The only way you get rules changed is to break them. Which is why, dog-collarless and unrobed, I now proceed to the Morning Prayer I only say publicly twice a week, waiting for the canons of the Church of England to catch up with reality on the ground.

Two Sides?

I set Monday aside to pop into the Affirming Catholicism day conference at Bristol Cathedral. Labels are for other people and I've never held my evangelical cards too tightly but, since I was filmed in the entry queue and probably shown briefly on Points West, the game is up. I may as well confess. A lot of my more catholic colleagues came up to me with a 'What are you doing here?'

What was I doing there? First thing to say is that I feel quite refreshed by the occasional dose of high Anglicanism. Couldn't go to mass every week but twice a year feels about right. Secondly, the guest speaker was His Rowanness the Archbishop of Canterbury, a wordsmith par excellence who I have never heard in the flesh before. Thirdly, I thought the title was brilliant - 'Catholic and Evangelical - Two Sides of the Same Coin?' If he was going to speak on that I thought it would be more interesting to hear him in front of catholics than evangelicals.

The Archbishop is a man who, according to Mrs T, always looks like he has had an invitation to a 'Come as a druid' party. But what a speaker. For forty five minutes he carefully drew on sources including politics, sociology, literature, poetry, theology and name-dropping his dinner party guests. ('I am an Archbishop - if I invite them they tend to come.')

So what did he say? Catholics and Protestants both consider themselves under authority, therefore responsible to someone. There is someone with a claim upon us both. The Protestants focus on the authority of the Bible but have to understand it is more than a historical document. The Catholics focus on the authority of organised religion but have to understand it is more than a global sociological phenomenon.

Now that was in the first five minutes so for me already a days worth of chewing is set up from those few sentences.

'Catholics have to live with the strangeness of the Bible; Protestants have to live with the strangeness of other Christians ... so we can't reduce the Bible to the bits we can cope with, or the church to the people that we like.'

The Reformation was not about Protestant versus Catholic, but about who was catholic. 'Catholicism, for the reformers, was insufficiently catholic.'

Both Catholic and Protestant are, primarily, missionary imperatives. Not in the sense simply of converts, but in seeking a unified language for human beings, a unified reality for a divided, fractured world.

So what might a catholic evangelicalism look like, he asked? It would be a biblical faith that sees the Bible as something to be read and shared, as something for public, not private consumption. To provide the common, imaginative text. It is designed for the community. It would be an ecclesial faith. It would see the Bible as that which convenes us, which draws us together. The Bible is sovereign - not us lying down before an all-powerful, infallible text, but a community that allows itself to be called by it.

(The Bible is not the repository of ultimate answers but that which stirs us to say, 'Have I seen it?' If we simply seek answers we dramatically underplay the supernatural - in fact we should never expect to have got to the end of it.)

Every sentence of the Nicene Creed is true in the sense 'This is the world I invite you to grow into,' not as fact or conclusion.

This is a difficult time for organised religion. We look as if we are fighting internally. But if we all looked as though we were listening, people might begin to be interested in what we were listening to.

His conclusion: 'What would a church look like that looked as though it was listening?'

He was asked, from the floor, if there was such a thing as definitive truth. 'Yes, but you and I do not own it.' So I believe he is saying that although there are absolutes, life is about the search for them not the arrival at them. Even the absolutes we think we have arrived at, such as 'The world is absolutely flat,' may one day be seen as flawed.

He was asked what he would say in response to the accusation that the Bible is racist in setting out God's apparent approval of driving Palestinians out of their land. 'Regarding a text as sacred doesn't mean it is morally upright or gets full marks for ethics.' The Bible is itself a self-critical book. Hosea, for instance, is critical of the death of Jezebel, so gloried in by the writer of Kings.'

A critique. Would I dare? I think I am with him all the way in his belief that apparent opposites can be nuanced into agreement. He is great at seeing the common ground between old enemies. I am not entirely convinced that you can nuance black into white or light into dark. There comes a point where Isaac and Ishmael have to separate. I think I would be comfortable with the company of Affirming Catholicism watching Forward in Faith and Reform go off hand in hand into the sunset to have their own rows. The Archbishop most definitely stopped short of saying this.

'God's endless improvisatory technique means that he can bestow gifts on the church in its current breadth even though its current breadth was not his original idea.'

Thank you, if you read this far. Writing it has helped me reflect. It remains a thinking work in progress. But those eyebrows. Why? Why?

Whoop Whoop

Having read, marked and inwardly digested Dawkins and Hitchens recently, the better to be equipped to debate in the market place, a couple of books come along which, although barely begun, have me whooping with delight at the language, the content and the sheer imagination of the collected ideas. If I am doing nothing else over the next few days you will find me with my head in:

Reason, Faith and Revolution - Reflections on the God Debate by Terry Eagleton in the Terry Lecture series.

The Case for God - What Religion Really Means by Karen Armstrong.

Jesus' Summer Holidays

Jesus on Wheels has been to St Lucia with Ali and her family. Looks like he had a good time. Jesus admires the work of the St Lucian Gideons, did a bit of diving, visited a drive in volcano, had a few boat trips and did a bit of chilling out on the beach.

Ali says, 'I think the helicopter pilot was a bit confused when half way through our flight my son piped up 'Mummy, take a photo of Jesus', but he didn't say anything and as I was concentrating on keeping my eyes tightly shut at that stage, I was unable to take the photo. He also caused great amusement at security at Gatwick on our way home when he was found in my carry-on harbouring a half bottle of rum. Now that he is over his jet-lag, and more importantly so am I, I will return him forthwith. With a little memento of his trip, which hopefully is not swine flu. Looking forward to having the pleasure of his company again.'

Twelfth Night

Wonderful experience last night as we saw Twelfth Night performed in the open air in Queen's Square, Bristol by a small, all-male cast, The Lord Chamberlain's Men. This is as close as I've got to experiencing Shakespeare the way his original audiences might have enjoyed it. Men played female roles and up to three parts each. Many quick changes of costume were required.

Perhaps four centuries ago uninvolved, drunken passers-by would still have yelled to distract. Seagulls might also have swooped overhead. Drum and bass powered vehicles would probably not have figured in the off-putting list.

But this cross-dressing comedy was hilarious afresh as a man, dressed as a woman pretending to be a man, was wooed by a woman dressed as a man, no wait, a man dressed as a woman, see even I'm confused.

Even the rain held off for three hours although it was a bit parky for July. And what a joy to sit with wine in hand whilst watching.

Many thanks to all those who have applauded my ability to successfully spell Twelfth only once in the first draft of this post.

Quotes

Peter arrived at church this morning and handed me a piece of paper with this quote on:

Let us beware of being convinced that we know what it would look like for God to be at work in this place and be convinced instead that it looks like this.

'That's rather good' I said, taking the paper. 'Who said that?'

A few weeks ago Peter came up to me after a sermon and asked if he could have a copy of my last sentence as he thought it was very helpful. I had ad-libbed the last sentence. It was one of those sermons where I knew so clearly what I had to say that all I had by way of notes was a piece of paper with three words on it. There was no script. I forgot the conversation.

Peter had obtained the recording, listened to it, transcribed the last sentence and handed it to me. Not recognising my own work I said 'That's rather good.' Trapped into a complete lack of humility.

So, after recording nearly 2,000 quotes over the years for use in future sermons I have finally achieved notoriety. I am going to put one of my own quotes in my book.

Old Veterans

Sad to note the death of Henry Allingham, world's oldest man and one of the few surviving veterans of World War 1. Many fine words will be written about him.

My thought today was this. As he grew up as a child he probably heard one or two people remark that Waterloo (only 81 years before he was born) was no longer commemorated the way it used to be. He was born nearer to 1815 than any child born this millennium was to the end of The Great War. Allingham may have met someone born in the eighteenth century.

When should we stop commemorating things? No dig at anyone. Just a question.

Second Class

I know that occasionally we learn stuff that, maybe, we should have known. Perhaps this is something I never really thought about. But why, why pray, do we have a second class stamp?

It occurs to me that since all my letters get dumped into the same post box there must be some early process (which costs money) to separate the first and second class mail.

A Royal Mail employee confirms this. The second class mail is sorted, put on one side and added to the next day's sorting.

Now forgive me for thinking the unthinkable, but if that happens then the same amount of mail is being sorted everyday and it takes one extra process than it need take to get to that point. So if someone could find enough money for overtime to sort one extra batch of second class post on one day then we'd have caught up, the second class system could be abolished and the price of a stamp could meet in the middle. Simples?

God is Not Great

I have just finished reading Christopher Hitchens' above-named book. He is, to some extent, the hard man to Dawkins' soft man. His is the text of the tabloid essayist masquerading as high-brow. Time and again the expressions of religion he chose to beat up totally deserved their mauling. The God he does not believe in, who is not great, is the God I don't believe in also. Daily Mail targets rarely move fast. He hits them, again and again.

I think, like so many current apologists for secular humanism, he cannot abide the idea of a thoughtful, non-prescriptive, biblical liberalism. Those of us who say, 'Check it out for yourself' and force nothing down anyone's throat are the ones who are really unbelievable to him. We've found our meta-narrative; we believe there is reality behind it.

Dawkins' argument, that evolution taught us that the earlier creatures would be simpler than the later so God can't be more complex than creation, can be demolished by saying that if you are looking for a god in an evolutionary chain you are clearly looking in the wrong direction. You will find that sort of god at the end not the beginning. Not that I believe in Dawkins non-god. So what of Hitchens' non-god?

Yes, religion has killed. Yes, scriptural texts borrow from each other. No, religion doesn't make people 'behave.' Yes, arguments for the existence of God from design are flawed. And yes (and some Christians might struggle with this), some forms of Sunday School are closer to indoctrination and thus child abuse than education. What does this prove?

Hitchens really hates fundamentalism - I suspect he would hate it in any guise, not only religious. Creationists, zealots, the militant, hell-raisers and those who promise eternity with 72 virgins ('Can't I have one woman who knows what she's doing?' said Clive James) all deserve their put-downs. And Hitchens does do it rather well.

But the problem for me, as ever, is this. The god he disproves is too small. The god he hates is indeed not great. Not at all. I think I have caught a glimpse of the likeness of the invisible God. I like what I see.

Long Drop of the Week

SNP spokesman:

'Once we stood on the precipice; now we've moved forward.'

Eh?

BBC news at 10.00 last night. '35% of 16-24 year olds looking for work are unemployed.'

And the other 65%?

Spoiled Memories

At the end of our Silver Wedding anniversary party back in 2002 we took one of the decorative, grey if the truth be told, helium balloons and let it go. We watched for ages as it disappeared into the distance; a sort of metaphor of something approaching an ongoing life together and it was really jolly poignant and about as close as I get to romantic without a good run up. I treasure the memory, a phrase I promise not to write very often.

Reading the Guardian last Saturday I learned that these plastic monsters usually deflate over the sea where creatures which normally consume jellyfish eat them. And then die horribly. Now, instead of a vision of walking hand-in-hand with Mrs T into the future, I have a vision of a turtle in agony.

Ah well. Seven years is long enough to treasure a memory (oops). Time for a new one.

Murrays Restaurant

If you haven't found Murrays in Hill Road, Clevedon it is a gem. It continues to offer fine Italian food made with good local ingredients. Last night I had an excellent starter of squid with rocket, lemon zest, olive oil and a hint of chilli. Followed it with a main of beautifully cooked venison with potato cake (layered, with mustard seeds in the mix) spinach and girelles. Had to have a chocolate tart for pud. It was there. Good bottle of chianti too.

My companions had equally lovely food of which a main of braised rabbit with Tickenham potatoes, peas and tomato gravy looked fabulous and the pick of the things I wanted to taste.

Good ice creams and sorbets as a dessert alternative, wonderful cheese board and a fine pizza menu for faster eating. Prices mid-range but some quite expensive wines on the list.

Blackbirds

Blackbird chicks first appeared in our garden in the spring, staying close to feeding parents and going crazy for food. It is fun to watch them growing up. Two are learning the ropes right now, jumping up into bushes and finding grubs to eat. Picking insects off the underside of our garden chairs.

But they haven't mastered water. We have a bird bath. It is quite shallow so they can paddle in it. We also have an old water tank full of deeper water. I think one of the immatures reckoned that all water must be bird-bath depth. It stood on the edge of the tank. It leaned in. There was a splash. Then it had to spend ten minutes on the fence with its wings out, trying to get dry.

Jumping in without planning. It's over-rated.

Unhappy Birthday John Calvin

John Calvin's 500th birthday passed me by last week but I think it is worth a brief observation that he is probably the most famous Christian theologian I have never read. When I was at college there was a joke going the rounds. It was said that Calvinists didn't allow husband and wife to have sex standing up for fear that it may lead to dancing.

I think this joke told me everything I needed to know in order to make a concerted effort not to read him and to avoid any examination questions about him. A working knowledge of Luther, now filed under 'obsolete' in my compartmentalised brain, got me through Reformation History.

I seem to recall something about a theology of total depravity.

Maybe the late H.L. Mencken got it right when he described Puritanism as '...the terrible fear that someone, somewhere might be enjoying themselves.'

Weather

A few years ago Trendlewood Church began having a weekend away at home. The aim is purely social - lots of events to which people can be invited as guests - and from Friday evening to Sunday lunch there are several things from which to chose. You can go to all the events or none.

Saturday day time involves several outdoor events and the weather forecast for BS48 was really grim. We were promised light rain from 10.00 until 15.00 then heavy rain. As it happened all the event organisers went for it and a day on the beach, a cycle ride, a tacky shopping trip and a walk in the country all involved more sunscreen than umbrella.

Three minutes after we got back from our walk the heavens opened and the heavy rain began, persisting all evening so that a barbecue was, as usual in England, enjoyed huddled under gazebos.

Sunday's forecast was equally poor and a huge shower fell at about 0900 so we took the decision to move our lunchtime picnic in the park to our house. It was lovely all day and I have never seen so many people sitting on the chairs in our garden while children played board games in a sweltering conservatory. Not a drop of rain had fallen by dusk.

Today the forecast says 'light rain' for 0700. It is a beautiful Somerset morning and I am about to put the washing out for a bit. If we can't even get the weather that is happening right now correct what chance have we got of forecasting it?

Bristol Underground Church

I've had a nice letter from this organisation, depicting ten smiling young people, about their work in Nailsea recently and asking for some fliers from our church. I intend to try and meet them for a chat.

Googling only produces one hit, and that this description of being evangelised on the streets of Stoke Croft by someone not interested. Anyone know any more?

The letter writers call themselves Apostle Simon and prophetess Bridget.

Thought for Friday

Keep your shades on
When you clean your teeth

(The Alabama 3 Monday Don't Mean Anything from the album MOR)

Word from Wraxall

We decided to say evening prayer in the church yard, it being too nice to sit in a dark chapel. And so we recited the psalms as ancient bricks witnessed in the wrong direction. We read of Samson as builders carried substances up the path to their project. What a blind alley revenge is. Who could imagine setting fire to foxes tails? We noted Paul's longing to preach the gospel where Christ was not known as we sat on walls that have known him for ages. I think I got in touch with my inner Ronald Blythe. Curious short-cutters nosed in our direction.

'Are they?'

'Yes dear, I think they are ... praying.'

We recited the evening office as swallows called in reinforcements to buzz a magpie. The traffic could have been a mile away, not the few yards it was.

The sun had lost its full heat but was delightful in the way only a Somerset evening can be. Better than candles.

'Shall we bring a bottle of wine for afterwards next week?' said the Rector. And do you know children. I rather think she might.

Tory Leader

I've seen enough of David Camera-on to make my mind up. I think I would like to make the acquaintance of David Camera-off. I have no idea what he's like, what he really thinks, what his policies are, what his political philosophies are or anything.

Are we doomed to get another election campaign where candidates vie not to tell us what they will be doing but scare us with what they tell us the others will be doing. We're cleverer than that.

Hit it with a what?

'That's a ganglion that is,' said the prayer ministry team as they prayed for my wrist. They were right. Perhaps they should become doctors. It didn't get any better.

'That's a ganglion that is,' said Mrs T. Shall I hit it with a book? I went a bit weak-kneed at this point. I've heard of hitting ganglions with books (and indeed Doctor Bell once teased Mrs T that he was going to do that to one she had but he successfully scared her into getting better - good doctoring that) but that was before I realised that in the wrong position they hurt like blazes.

'I'll hit it with a book,' said curate colleague and friend Richard simultaneously from separate counties. Why this enthusiasm for hitting me with a book? Don't answer.

So the doctor I saw today confirms it is a ganglion but made no offer to hit it with a book. Five days of strapping and anti-inflamatories and then four weeks of wait-and-see. If no joy then time for people to cut into me and see if I bleed.

So friends? Any wisdom. Hitting ganglions with books? Is that just for the soft ones in non-awkward places. Or should I toughen up?

Mixed metaphor of the week

Two contenders:

From the pulpit last Sunday evening:

Let's throw that in the melting pot and see what sticks.

And from a Standing Committee discussion on buildings projects:

We have to have those trip wires otherwise we're swimming in the open sea.

Fantastic.

July 4th

The Diocese of Bath and Wells celebrates its 1100th birthday in Glastonbury this Saturday with a bit of a do. Consider coming along to join this. Should be a fun day with interesting seminars, worship, children's activities and a chance to meet in a massive group for a change. Details here.

Anniversaries

This year, on September 30th, I shall have been ordained 25 years. How should this occasion be marked? The picture is of my priesting in 1985. Note mullet, 'tache, grey shoes and smugness (before you all say).

Jesus On Wheels 3

And here he is at the spiritual home of the Rev'd Ian Paisley. Perhaps we ought to take a moment for a caption competition. I rather think so. Go.

Jesus On Wheels 2

And here he is arriving in Belfast last Tuesday morning about to go to St Lucia. Love the 'proof' Ali.

Jesus on Wheels

He hasn't had many adventures for a while but suddenly has globe-trotted. The shot in the Alps was taken in the French resort of La Rosiere (with Les Arcs visible in the background) and the airport is Grenoble.

Bats

Saw a lovely bat flying around the church yard last night. Bigger than a pipistrelle I reckon. Was chatting about this later and I told an old joke.

Clergy were discussing how to get rid of bats in their churches. The best suggestion was from an old, country parson who said, 'Well I baptised all mine and then had them confirmed; haven't seen them since.'

You probably heard it before. Thing is, as far as one of our group was concerned, someone not familiar with Christian ways but having lived four decades or so, you could see the tumbleweed blowing down her street. Why it was funny simply didn't register. People don't just not get baptised and confirmed any more, they don't even know what those things mean.

So anyway. How do you get rid of bats, a protected species? Another friend, who was once a country vicar, told me this. Bats are protected. But they won't live easily alongside pigeons. Pigeons can spread up to 37 different types of disease. You can't easily get a grant to remove pigeons from a church. Rats will, if hungry enough, eat pigeon eggs and chicks. Rats spread fewer diseases than pigeons but you can, often, get a grant to remove rats.

So, using the laws of the Church of England, he suggested that if you have bats, introduce pigeons then, when the bats have gone, introduce rats, then when the pigeons have gone, get a grant to remove the rats. Easy. If only. But a good story.