Anglican Communion

Rowan Williams must rue the day he ever agreed to become Archbishop of Canterbury. Shot at by the press and many in his own congregation for not being more hard-line on issues like gay priests, and now having the Anglian Communion threatened with mass migrations (no pun intended) to Roman Catholicism in response to the overtures made by the Pope. Suddenly, it really does feel more concrete that we are in the end days for traditional Anglicanism, that gentle, wooly, and generally harmless pastime.

Instead, we can look forward to a future where all non-Catholic churches are based on some form of evangelicalism, and the tragic anti-thought, pro-emotion nonsense that accompanies it. It's not a prospect to relish.

On the (Humanist) Buses

The latest Humanist Society bus poster campaign features photographs of two children, with the logo "don't label me"; i.e. the absurdity of describing children based on the religion of their parents as Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, whatever. It's a worthwhile message: as Prof Dawkins has said, you would not describe a child as Marxist or Socialist, so why describe them as Catholic or Protestant?

Christians are delighted that the children featured in the poster, it turns out, are the offspring of a born again Christian father (no mention made of the mother in the article, oddly, but it's a fair bet she leans the same way). "Their Christianity shines through" says the happy father, and of course they do look like very happy children - they wouldn't have been used in the poster otherwise - but it's a fairly typical case of religious projection to say that they look happy because they are Christians. It's interesting that there is no move to have the pictures removed: I think if pictures of my children had been used in a campaign I felt strongly against I'd do something about it. Classic case of Christian tolerance, obviously.

It should be said that the father did not contact the press directly. This was done by Gerald Coates, the leader of the Pioneer Network of Churches "which I founded 20 or 30 years ago. And they're a fantastic family and he [the father] just Facebooked me this morning to tell me." Nice.

Conference Call

Bloop.

Eric: Hi, who's that?

Joe: Joe here, sorry I'm late; who else is on?

Eric: This is Eric, and I've got Paul and Steve with me, and Jeff's dialled in from down south.

Joe: Who else are we waiting for?

Eric: Just Nick now.

Steve: Let me give him a call on his mobile

Paul: I'll get us a coffee while we're waiting. You want anything?

Eric: Yes, tea please

Bloop

Eric: Hi, is that you Nick?… Nick?

Joe: Did someone drop off the call? Jeff, are you still there?… Jeff?

Steve: Nick's not answering his mobile. Shall we start without him?

Eric: Well, Jeff's dropped off we can't really start without Paul anyway

Bloop

Eric: Jeff?

Nick: Hi, Nick here, sorry I'mm late. For some reason the diary appointment didn't get saved into my calendar and it was only when I saw Steve was calling me that I remembered. Anyway, everyone else here?

Steve: Well, Paul's just getting drinks while we're waiting, and

Bloop

Steve: Oh, who's that?

Jeff: Hi, sorry just went through a tunnel.

Eric: Where are you?

Jeff: Just on my way to the airport in Ankara

Steve: Ankara!? What are you doing there?

Jeff: Don't ask. Completely wild goose chase. Bill said…

Nick: Chaps, I'm afraid I'm a bit pushed for time. Can we get going?

Eric: Yeah, me too. Look here's Paul, so I think we can kick off.

Paul: Yes, sorry. Got chatting to Jeremy in the kitchen; did you hear about Sarah in Dubai?

Steve: No, what happened?

Nick: Guys…

Paul: She got strip searched at the airport

Steve: You're joking me! Why?

Paul: They saw the Isreali stamps in her passport and…

Nick: Guys…

Bloop

Eric: Who's that?

Sanjay: This Sanjay

Eric: Er, Hi Sanjay. Are you meant to be on this call?

Sanjay: Tom suggested I should be

Paul: Really? But this project's in the US.

Sanjay: Is it? Tom said it was European so it came under him.

Nick: Guys, I really do need to go soon

Eric: Yes, okay. Sanjay, you can stay on if you want, but the project's in the US; it's the holding company that's in Europe

Sanjay: Ah, okay. Well I think I'll drop off then. Sorry to disturb you.

Bloop. Bloop

Steve: Did we only lose Sanjay then? Jeff?

Jeff: Yeah. Hi. Still here

Paul: Ok. Let's get started. Nick?.. Nick?

Eric: Bollocks.

Holy Moly!

I can't believe anyone would actually buy these things. About 3 foot high, and am told (by an unreliable witness) about £300.

I'd love to know why Catholicism let's itself be associated with this sort of tat; religion of the common people?

Probably my favourite shop in Staines; sells these, 4 foot dragons, Middle Earth chess sets, and a range of ways to customise your mobile phone.

Down to Earth

Driving home on the M4 one evening, I spotted this helicopter being towed. So shocked, I risked life and limb to photograph it: not a bad shot considering I was steering with my knees.

Goddamn Apple

I'm really happy with our iMac, bought earlier this year, but now Apple, the rotters, have brought out two new versions of iMac with faster processors, larger hard drives, wireless keyboard and mouse, and -- most important of all -- LED backlit screens with higher screen resolution: one 21.5" and the bigger 27".

What the heck is wrong with me? Why on earth would I want either of these when what I have is perfectly fine? Pure technolust.

Pathetic.

Oxford

To Oxford yesterday with Jack and Elizabeth, who had arranged to meet an old friend for lunch. Second time I've been back in less than a month, after not going for about ten years.

I really went because I wanted to see the new extension that had been built for the Ashmolean Museum (cost £60 million). As Jack and I arrived, the signs were not good for any kind of extensive visit as Jack said "It's not all art stuff is it? I hate art stuff. Oh, look at the signs outside; it's all art stuff isn't it?" Well, he had a point, but in fact it's mainly antiquities.

The extension itself is beautiful: very clean and spacious. But we only spent about 10 minutes there in total, including five minutes in the gift shop, before heading off to Browns for lunch.

When we used to live in Oxford, Browns' waitress employment policy priorities were always: great face and legs? check. can carry a plate? check. They were almost always spectacularly good looking and wore mini skirts; clearly hazardous when dealing with beered up male diners, but you couldn't help feeling the waitresses made considerably more out of tips than they did through official channels. Since it's changed hands (to some restaurant chain) this shameful and wildly popular policy has changed to become more, ah, inclusive, so the meal is less of an event than it used to be.

So after spending an hour or so looking like a divorced father taking his son out for a meal on his access day ('Course you have a coke, son; I don't get to see you that often'), we went off to the History of Science Museum. I should point out also that the weather was filthy - raining with gale force winds - so looking for indoor shelter was always a priority. The Steampunk exhibition at the Museum was still on, and thankfully less crowded than last time, so we managed to get a good look at the exhibits this time.

They're universally excellent, obviously, but I was once again struck by the thought, 'Why on earth do they bother?' Some of the things must have taken months of careful work, but it's such a niche market - it's even a sub-genre of SciFi, itself probably the ultimate niche market - that whatever they produce is going to appeal to a tiny minority of people. Ridiculous thought, of course, only a twat like me would worry about how many people something would appeal to as part of the creative process. Anyway, at the end of all the brass and leather computer keyboards, steam driven mechanical arms, and ocular assistance devices was a room with proper Victorian scientific instruments, and it took a few moments to realise one had passed from fantasy to reality. It was a clever touch by the curators.

After the museum, we then spent a fairly desultory hour wandering through the wind-swept streets and the covered market (Jack fascinated, as most are seeing it for the first time, by the headless deer and pheasant carcasses hanging outside the butchers' shops - how on earth does Oxford support so many specialist butchers? I think he was most horrified by the fact that as part of the gutting process they remove the anus - "Oh my God, they've cut out their bum-holes!!"). I even went to a CD and Record Fair in the Town Hall to get out of the rain. Rather depressing affair, several beardy types (not women, though could have been) talking about early George Benson and the collectibility of different pressings of a particular album. The traders staring blankly ahead, as yet another punter riffles idly through their collection, their livelihood, before moving on without buying something. I don't remember the last time I went to one of these things, so I don't know how well attended they usually are, but this one was sparse, with sellers outnumbering buyers. Can't help feeling BitTorrent and iTunes are going to kill the CD Fair much like they're killing the record shops; HMV seems to devote only a third of its floorspace to CDs now, the rest being taken up with DVDs, gaming, and t-shirts.

Well, Elizabeth finally finished her lunch, and we met and said goodbye to Ludo, then home for an evening flaked out on the sofa, staring glassy-eyed at Harry Hill and HIGNFY, listening to Jack shouting at the TV next door while playing Call of Duty. Life in the fast lane.