Category: Blog Entry

Well we jumped ship in Leith in the end – having gone most of the way round the British Isles in a sort of bubble of unreality. Many of you will know that my mother died just as we set out – after a short illness which progressed very rapidly. Thank you to everyone for their prayers and kind messages.

Sheila was the last surviving grandparent for our children. She was a huge influence on all of us. Like many women of her generation, she carried an unfulfilled vocation to ordained ministry – I know that in some measure my vocation has been part of that. But she fulfilled that calling in other ways – not least in her work as an Educational Psychologist working to reduce illiteracy levels among children in some of the most troubled areas of Belfast. As everyone does on the death of a parent, one ponders and reassesses.

I was also sorry to see today news of the death of Rev Cecil Kerr. Cecil grew up as I did in Fermanagh – and he was taught by my father. After time as Church of Ireland Chaplain at Queens University, he took a great leap of faith and founded the Christian Renewal Centre in Rostrevor in the 1970’s. While I was never directly involved in the charismatic renewal movement, I went there often in the early years. In those grim times, it was one of the few places where one could catch glimpses of future possibilities as people from both sides of the religious and political divides came together to acknowledge that spiritual change and renewal was the only way forward. Cecil plunged into dementia soon after his retirement – may he now enter into the peace he sought to plant in the hearts of others.

We’re now reached Kirkwall in Orkney on this journey round the outside of the British Isles. As always with the passage of time, an amorphous group of passengers begins to become something more interesting – characters and distinctive personalities begin to emerge. The ship is known variously as the ‘English country house afloat’ or more prosaically as ‘The Church of England afloat’

One feels that it is only a matter of time until the passengers are gathered in the Darwin Lounge, Poirot steps forward twirling his waxed moustaches and we gradually begin to discover who the murderer is.

Well this is great. We’ve fetched up in the Cruise Terminal in Greenock – not exactly the kind of travel which broadens the mind. But being on a ship does make things turn up in a slightly different order. We left Killybegs last night – went past Glencomcille and all the familiar bits of North Donegal including the wonderful Tory Island – and came up the Clyde past Cumbrae.

Meanwhile I and others are lecturing to the clientele. This particular ship is known for being the Church of England afloat – tho’ it seems to have aspects of the SEC adrift about it. I hope I have enough inside me to get to the end.

I’m talking my way round the British Isles for a living – and for a holiday. This is the famous McCarthy’s Bar in Castletownbere. I happen to think that ‘Round Ireland with a fridge’ was far more entertaining and original – but there you are. Anyway it’s fascinating to visit your own place as a tourist. The guide on the bus this morning said that they had no problems in West Cork and that it was great that ‘they now had peace for all time’ – which seemed to me to be a rather more expansive claim even than Chamberlain’s.

This cruising thing of course is very strange to us. The last time we were in Kenmare was 1975 in the Renault 4. It was a bit of a struggle and our tent blew away at the wrong moment. On a cruise of course you just sit there and they wind the scenery past you. I don’t find it altogether easy.

There is of course a certain something about long journeys by train. You may not have met the Man in Seat 61 – take a look if you haven’t

So having taken almost 90 minutes to get from Perth to Edinburgh, things are improving a bit. And we’re going to try out the high speed line from St Pancras en route to Dover tomorrow. I can’t imagine that this particular train is very green – East Coast’s now elderly diesel trains are well past their best. But I suppose it is better than the plane.

It’s also sort of sociable in a way that the plane never seems to be. The lady next to Alison – she comes from somewhere in Ireland of course – is showing pictures of her grandchildren and the atmosphere is becoming something like a rural bus journey in the midlands of Ireland. Certainly there is none of the pressure which led the Jet Blue flight attendant to inflate the escape slide and go for it. Tho’ I’ve pondered the meriots of such an exit myself now and again.

Sorry about the break – I usually do better than that. But even without the excitement of being on University Challenge it’s been busy. An unplanned family visit to Cambridge was followed by the journey yesterday and today for Neal’s funeral in Portadown.

These events are of course extraordinary. I’ll remember many things about it – thousands of people in the main street of Portadown; a spontaneous round of applause for the Gurkha Guard of Honour. Most of all I’ll remember the gentle sotto voce commands to the Gurkha pall bearers – no shouting or display. Just gentle men who had come straight from Afghanistan to lay Neal to rest.

This is what I said.

And there I was – passing a quiet summer evening with the Vestry of St Mary’s, Kirriemuir, discussing matters of mutual interest like raised beds and compost. But when I got back to Blogstead, I met a blizzard of texts and phone calls from sad people who have nothing better to do than watch University Challenge and wanted to ensure that we knew that I had been the subject of a question. Matters to do with the Scottish Episcopal Church are unlikely to be at the ‘starter for ten’ level but one might have hoped for better than a wipe-out.

But for a future edition, one could ask the following:

Name the members of the Gang of Three
What are the provisions of Canon 4:10?
Who was the speaker at the recent General Synod Dinner?

Beyond those, I’d be glad of answers to these:

What should I say to the Pope?
Will there be room for churches in the big society?

Speaking of which, I know that we don’t have a Polish Pope any more. But you’ll be glad to know that our Polish readers are still on board with this blog.

The news creeps up on you gradually. A text from our Mark – the edges of some news reports. Someone from Portadown has died in Afghanistan And gradually it becomes clear that it is Neal – one of the three killed by a renegade Afghan policeman whom they were training.

Neal took the army path after his GCSE’s – school and university and then training. He obviously loved it. He sort of grew up at a different pace – I suppose it made a man of him sooner than the others. He was good at staying in touch – most recently by text and Facebook..

The memories came flooding back – most clearly a picture which is in our house of their Primary School rugby team playing at Ravenhill. And a day we spent with Neal in – of all places – San Diego in 1998. We think about his family – his parents Ivor and Marie, Nigel and Valerie, his cousins and wider family. They will be devastated – but they will be brave. Portadown is famous for many things – some of them not so good. But on the day when you need family, community, neighbourly and spiritual support .. and when you are going to go on needing it … there can be nowhere better to live.

Not the time for questions. Nothing must diminish the value which Neal – and his country – put on the work he was doing, the risks he was running and the sacrifice which he offered. Our thoughts and prayers are with Ivor and Marie and his family.

And the picture – Primary School Rugby at Ravenhill and the team from Bocombra Primary School – Neal is second left on the bench; Mark on the end. All getting the pep talk from Willie Gribben

The loss of young men in car crashes has become a tragic commonplace of Donegal life – so much so that major initiatives have been taken to reduce the toll and they have been partially successful. But the whole community here has been devasted by an accident in which eight people died – seven young men in one car and a elderly man with whom they collided.

With a phenomenon such as this, there is no single cause. It’s easy to see some of the reasons – a rural community almost without significant public transport and therefore almost entirely car-dependant; poor quality roads and thin policing; alcohol; cars as rite of passage and identity symbol for young men. The roads just don’t feel safe. The signs of ‘dough-nutting’ are common – night-time rubber-burning competitions. Groups of young people are out cruising in cars at night in a way which you don’t see elsewhere.

The Inishowen Peninsular – where they all lived – is a long thin piece of land which stretches north near Derry. It’s one of those places which might well be an island – a place apart and close-knit. All week, we watched the funerals and read the statements from grieving parents – and the priest who said to young people, ‘Remember that you are not immortal’ They were impressive to the point of heroic – but there is something unutterably painful about the sight of gentle country people in a place like this – slightly uncomfortable in the formality of unaccustomed suits – dealing with their grief so publicly and with such dignity.

I’m helping myself to a short blogbreak while we are at Blogstead na Mara in Donegal.

Things have moved on here. We eventually decided that we could no longer justify the landline at Eircom’s rates – more expensive than our Blogstead facilities. I did ask why they charged so much – to which I got the usual answer, ‘It’s the regulator’ So that explains that then. So we are sitting in the internet cafe – others have discovered that it is possible to log on while parked in the Square. I invited discussion as to whether or not this was a victimless crime. But we’re on holiday so that’s that. Meanwhile, there circulates among the expat community here [that means Portadown] the information that Eircom will reconnect you and wiave the charge if you ring a particular access number. But nobody can remember what it is.

I’ve been enjoying Ian McEwan’s Solar – and in particular the legend of the unwitting thief ..

And finally I had as one does a special haircut for what they call in Ireland ‘the holliers’. Unfortunately the waiting times in my favourite place in George Street have been extending, so I moved my custom to a random hairdresser in the Dalry Road – only to find that he is Richard Holloway’s hair artiste. Asked for a brief rundown of Richard’s requirements, he responded that ‘He just asks me to whack it off’ But closer to home I have found a Turkish barber in South Street in Perth. He was really good – particularly when he approached the top of my head with his clippers and said rather menacingly ‘Zero’ I did not know whether it was statement or question.