marramgrass

Each morning, driving into Belfast (not so bad when the schools are on holiday), we listen to BBC Radio Ulster. It’s the only time in the day when I receive the news via a human voice rather than through the blue-on-white of Google Reader, but I’m getting fed up with it.

Take this morning as an example of why. Yesterday the Air Traffic Control radar at Dublin Airport fell over causing delays, diversions and cancellations to mess with the plans of many a holiday-maker. This morning a representative of one of the airlines was being interviewed on the radio. The first question he was asked: “Who is to blame?”

The was no acknowledgement that sometimes these things happen, and only a passing reference to the fact that the decision to take the system down was intended primarily to ensure the safety of flights in and out of the airport. The interviewer’s main concern seemed to be who would be held accountable for this terrible, awful, atrocious turn of events where no-one at all was injured.

I’m coming to despise that phrase, “held accountable”, and all the other variations that express the same idea: this was someone’s fault, and they shall pay.

It shows in the journalism, where interviewers seem to believe that their job is primarily to make their interviewee, whoever they may be, squirm as much as possible. Sometimes the desire to ask a tough and hard-nosed question is necessary, often it’s just silly and irrelevant. It shows in the phone calls, emails and text-messages from listeners, as the new, interactive BBC lets everyone throw in their two pen’orth. And you can see plenty of it — more, even! — online where the communication is oh-so-easy.

Of course society needs to ensure that everyone from government to grocer deals fairly, honestly and safely with each other, but I wish we could recover the shrug of the shoulder that recognises that sometimes stuff just happens, you know?

Again I think about something I’ve seen or heard, and I wonder about grace. When I encounter a mistake or an inconvenience, I do my best to remember to acknowledge no harm and let it go, but it’s tough when everything I listen to in the morning is focussed on assigning blame.

Do you think we could manage, as a society — especially in this little corner of the world where so much real harm and hurt still casts it shadow — to try for that grace?

T o follow up on my previous post, today I paid 116p a litre for unleaded, and then I read about the end of the Hummer!

Yesterday afternoon I paid £1.14 a litre to fill the petrol tank of my car. On a 55-litre fuel tank that takes me well past the sixty pound mark for a fill.

I’m not complaining about this because for now I know that we can afford it, but I also know that it’s a heavier problem for some.

I’ve been operating on the assumption that at least part of the reason for the hefty duty on fuel in the UK was an effort to discourage car use for environmental reasons. I may be wrong — the duty has been substantial for longer than the environment has really been on the radar, I think.

When we moved back to Northern Ireland (almost two years ago, now) we took what was for us a difficult decision. We bought a second car. This was a result of the nature of the work we both do: I move around a lot during the day, and not having to rely on public transport makes for less time spent traveling, plus I often am out and about in the evenings; my wife works on calls ‘from home’ and needs quick transport to the hospital to be immediately available; it’s impossible to co-ordinate these two factors.

That was our thinking, and most of the time I manage to convince myself that it’s not just an excuse. On occasion, though, I wonder if we’ve been seduced by a little taste of decadence, even if the second car only leaves the drive when we really need it to.

Sometime in the next few months, we’ll need to fill the oil tank for our central heating, too. That one I am a little concerned about. When it comes to it, though, we’ll rein in for a while and we’ll be able to pay the bill I fully expect to be in the region of £5-600. Again, we’re lucky (which is to say, privileged) — we’ll be able to do that. Others won’t.

What to do?

This is where I start to get a little uncomfortable, because ultimately I think it’s a cultural thing that is as much to do with me as anyone else, consuming everything.

I have convinced myself that we need two cars in our family, however uncomfortable I claim to be with that arrangement. We, a couple with no children yet, need a whole car each?

Maybe, for now, it’s true that we do. I still hope, though, that I’ll never stop asking myself that every time I look out at our drive and see them sitting there. When I stop, then I’ll need to worry.

I suppose that’s a solid principle: don’t get comfortable.

The Archbishop of Canterbury seems to have have caused a bit of a stir yesterday. He certainly got the politicians jumping :-)

On the surface Dr Williams’ remark seems a pretty daft thing to say, but giving it some thought it leaves me with a couple of questions.

In civil matters (divorce, property disputes, etc.) it may make some sense, as long as all parties agree. Then it becomes mainly a contractual thing (beware, IANAL). Still, let me emphasise may and some. I’m not qualified to go any further, so I’ll leave it with a question mark: ?

The bigger question I find is that of what it means to be a ‘multicultural’, ‘diverse’ or ‘plural’ society?

Law is a different case, of course, but more generally if we want to be able to say we accept and value other cultures, are we kidding ourselves if we then go on and insist that cultural distinctives get left at the door (or the customs checkpoint)? How do we integrate and celebrate difference, rather than ending up with some sort of cultural lowest common denominator where differences are glossed over in case we find we disagree on something? (When did we forget that it’s okay to disagree?)

I had a chat with a friend recently who helps out with a youth group in a church of a mainstream Protestant denomination. One of the young people who comes along is Roman Catholic with a big wide Republican streak. This young person asked if they could do something to commemorate the events of Bloody Sunday, as you’ll surmise a controversial suggestion in that context. I don’t know how that conversation went, but consider this: with all this talk of A Shared Future, how can we acknowledge and accept a shared past and a shared present?

Love him or hate him — I’ve many friends who’ll be distressed when I say I have a soft spot for him — Rowan Williams has certainly got people talking.

Our street, last night. It was all still there this morning. I haven’t seen snow so deep in a long time.

Just like the rest of the UK, one of the more controversial social issues right now is the growing migrant community, in particular from Eastern Europe.

Me, I don’t subscribe to the “dirty foreigners taking our jobs” view, nor indeed the variations along the lines of “they should learn more English and be more like us” or “just send ‘em all home.” The more the merrier, I say. It’s not like we’re in a famine or a drought, here, and we stand to be greatly enriched as a society.

I’m slightly sad to detect the little hints of prejudice that do still manage to creep into my mind, though. Example one: behind a car with a Polish reg on the motorway, I find myself watching out for dodgy driving. But then, I do that when I’m behind an Irish reg, too, so maybe I’m just a driving snob. Example two: the window cleaner came to our house the other day, and he has a Polish guy working with him. Why did I have to fight down the little bit of unease I had? Totally unjustified.

It was that window cleaner who got me thinking about this, though. While his colleague, who didn’t appear to have much English going by the interactions I saw between the two of them, was doing most of the work - climbing the ladder, cleaning the windows, cleaning the small forest out of our guttering - the window cleaner stood in the front garden chatting to me while he watched. He talked plenty about his Polish colleague. None if it was too nasty, although some wasn’t 100% nice, either, but the tone and the flippancy - especially with the other guy maybe twenty feet away - left me wondering if he’d have spoken in quite the same manner if he thought the subject of his gossiping could understand what he was saying.

I felt very uncomfortable with this. Did I say anything? No, I just smiled and nodded. What’s that about? When they left, I did make a point of thanking the one who I’d seen do most of the work. He looked a little taken aback. Working round here (in the heart of almost-countryside middle-class land) I wasn’t terribly surprised.

How come I’m thinking so much about this? How come it’s such a big deal to so many people, whatever side of the line they’re coming from?

Moving to a new country isn’t an easy thing. I found it tough enough going to Scotland, and I knew people there and spoke the language. Actually, I’ve found it tough enough returning to Northern Ireland, and this is home.

The notion of community runs right through the Gospel, and it’s one of open and welcoming community - all the more challenging since human community by its nature tends towards being a bounded and exclusive thing. If we’re trying to discover a true expression of Gospel community, how do we respond to the incomer, the economic migrant, the guy here looking for a slightly better life for him and his family (I hope he finds what he’s after), the seeker of asylum, even the tourist.

In light of Jesus, I’m not sure how much emphasis needs placed on matters of nationality and geography, at least in the negative way we like to. Even if we go back and consider the Old Testament, there’s a lot in the Law about right treatment of the ‘alien’.

Of course, I don’t know the answers. I just ask the questions. But I wish more people would ask the questions.

Afternoon, Radio 4 news, there’s more than one way to do it, post mortem, Benedict XVI, a very long way, a very short way, beta radiator, chunka-chunka.

Gordon Brown.

What will the difference be? I couldn’t begin to guess. Not my area of expertise, shall we say.

As prime minister I suppose Blair wasn’t all bad. Wasn’t all good, either. Brown strikes me as a harder man. Since I’m a bit of a wuss, and fairly mild in most things, that worries me a little.

Time will tell.

For now, here we are in the middle of this democracy thing. Part of that is our ‘right’, even responsibility if you look at it that way, to criticize the government. Certainly we’re all pretty good at it. Comes natural, like.

What would you do? PM for a year — how would you go about it? ‘Ruler’ of a fairly powerful country, with influence, what would you say, where would you go?

What would the consequences be?

It’s not a job I would want for anything. But if it was you, what would you do?

Comments are open…

I don’t know how much you’ve heard about the current mix-up (I say ‘mix-up’ - I’ve heard the words ‘chaos’, and especially ‘debacle’, so many times now they’ve lost their meaning to me) with recruitment for junior doctor posts in the NHS. It’s close to us because my wife is right in the middle of all the uncertainty, but I’ve only really seen a few brief references in the news, mostly short on the detail.

But last night Channel 4 News got full-on with the Secretary of State for Health, Patricia Hewitt. I don’t know how long they keep the article on their website for, but I think the video is only there for a week. If, after that, you want to see it, drop me an email and I may know how to get it in front of you… ;-)

UPDATE:  An enterprising individual has stuck the interview up on YouTube.

The Lord has come.

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to his own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

In the interest of domestic harmony, I mention World Toilet Day, today.

Click the link at your peril.

Actually, worthwhile cause and all that, but… Turdlywinks?!