Well life at Blogstead na Mara continues in its usual calm way. Donegal is, so far as I know, the only place in which it is possible to change time zones without leaving the country. The only thing which keeps the jet lag at bay is the introduction of a little Melatonin into the Guinness.
We did church at Dunfanaghy – not so very different from Ballintuim last Sunday. They both have that intensity of life which is characteristic of minority communities. Knowing and being known is much more important than it is in a large community where people can slip in and out around the edges.
And for some reason the evening degenerated into some fairly noisy hymn singing – particularly hymns of childhood with stupid words. I’m pretty tolerant – ‘Shall we gather at the River’ and ‘Will yeranker hold in the storms of life’ raise hardly a flicker of concern. I have yet to have the opportunity of singing one which one of my curates claimed to have met, ‘Jesus kicks the ball through the goalposts of life.’
Just don’t ask me to sing, ‘O perfect Love’. I used to get very tetchy – asking bride and groom if ‘patient hope and quiet brave endurance .. and childlike trust which fears nor death nor pain’ was all right. I wonder if they still think so.
“I want to be a blooming tree” has got to be the worst children’s song:
“Bright colours like daisies, more fruit than Sainsbury’s, you’ll be a blooming tree”
Thanks – I couldn’t find it. Would probably pass unnoticed midst the obscurity of this year’s hymns. I had to mime under my mitre.
I once had a competition with an Irish friend to see who knew the naffest Christian song. I won with ‘zipbamboozamalamalaboo there’s freedom in Jesus Christ’.
I think you are thinking of Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life
Something for next year’s General Synod Eucharist, I think.
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