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My father would hand-pump air into one of these to keep his baby brother alive

There was quite a bit of stuff on TV over the weekend regarding the 70th anniversary of the Battle of Britain. Included in any tale of the Battle of Britain will always be The Blitz and these were no different.

Watching these programmes reminded me of my father. Growing up in Islington (which was not the trendy place it is now) he was 5 when Britain declared war on Germany. By 6 he had been evacuated to Whitney in Oxfordshire where he stayed on a farm but – like many – found his hosts not to be as warm as his own parents. In 1941 my grandmother gave birth to my twin uncles so my Dad, aged 7 was brought back to London (at the height of the Blitz) to help her. He has told me of his nights sat in an air-raid shelter wearing his “mickey mouse” gas mask and pumping air by hand into one of his baby brother’s gas mask (see image right) while my grandmother did the same with the other one. I have a son about the age he was then and the idea of my boy going through what my dad went through is horrendous.

A while back (I think it may have been during the 60th anniversay of the Blitz) the Imperial War Museum¹ in London had a Blitz exhibition. I accomanpied my Dad hoping he could give me some first-hand references to the displays and features. He did. One of the exhibits was a “Blitz Experience”. You walked into a mock anderson air-raid shelter and then sat there whilst a simulated air-raid took place. The narrative was interesting and to me it looked like they had taken a lot of care over the authenticity. When the “bombs” dropped you could “hear” the planes and “feel” them exploding in the surrounding area as the shelter shook. During much of this time the lights were either out or very low. Thinking the experience was quite good I turned to my Dad for an opinion on just how realistic it was. My Dad was a white as a sheet and staring ahead. I touched his arm and he looked at me with a tear in his eye and simply said “That was a bit too close for comfort”.

At that moment, more than any other I began to appreciate what those who remember the Blitz went through and why they rarely speak of all of it. I imagine it is similar for the pilots of the RAF and all those who served, fought and just lived through those times. Later my Dad would tell me how it brought back memories of the time and of those who went through it with him but are no longer around. At that moment also my respect for my dad grew at an exponential rate and still does.

So here’s to my Dad and the thousands like him who lived through times that I couldn’t possibly imagine living through. They didn’t ask to or want to and I doubt they would want to do it again but they did and had they not: how different would the world be now? While we’re at it here also is to those around the world who live through such times today and here’s hoping we can finally get around to making sure nobody else has to.

¹ If you live in London and have never visited the Imperial War Museum, I recommend it. Far from being a celebration and glorification of military might as the name might suggest it takes a sensitive, respectful and careful look all the aspects of war, the people involved, the tragedy and the reasons behind it. I am yet to go and not come away even more convinced that war must end.

Twitter recently introduced a new feature which seems to have annoyed more than a few people. The “Who to follow” section on the sidebar recommends Twits for you to follow based upon who the people you are following are following (hang on, did I type that too many times?).

If you are using Firefox (or Iceweasel like me) then here’s a tip to get rid of this and other such annoying sections on websites.

1. Find your Firefox profile directory – on my Debian GNU/Linux system this is stored under /home/[USER]/.mozilla/firefox/ but see here for help from Mozilla on finding this.
2. In the ‘chrome’ directory (e.g. /home/[USER]/.mozilla/firefox/chrome) find and edit (or create) a file called userContent.css
3. In there add the following code:

#recommended_users {

    display: none;

    visibility:hidden;

}

1. Save the file and restart Firefox.

The #recommended_users part is the ID that Twitter give to that section within their pages. IDs like this are used for styling so it’s exactly what we need to use here. if you are looking to hide something different you need to find a way to identify it on the page. To do this you need to examine the source (View->Page Source) for the relevant page and find the content you want to hide. Wrapped around that content will be something like <div id=”recommended_users”> or similar. The bit in quotes after “id=” is the bit we’re after, only prepend a # to it in your userContent.css file. The tag may not have an id= bit but it might have a “class=” instead. In that case replace “#recommended_users” with “.class_name”. so if this were the case here it would look like…

.recommended_users {

    display: none;

    visibility:hidden;

}

You can also apply this to several IDs or classes like this..

 #recommended_users, #second_id, .third_class {
    display: none;
    visibility:hidden;
}

Just remember to separate them with commas.

Hope this helps

This prayer is attributed to St Patrick. I adapted it as a closing blessing/collective prayer the other week.

As I arise today,
may the strength of God pilot me,
the power of God uphold me,
the wisdom of God guide me.

May the eye of God look before me,
the ear of God hear me,
the word of God speak for me.

May the hand of God protect me,
the way of God lie before me,
the shield of God defend me,
the host of God save me.

May Christ shield me today.
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit, Christ when I stand,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

Grown-ups, we make our own path
Using our own needs as a compass
Indiscretion, excused with a toss of the head
Leave the consequences for now
Time’s aplenty
Yes, there’s time to reflect later

And yet the day comes
No excuses delaying it
Debt is a patient builder

Yesterday’s fun on today’s bill
Every day it’s the same, will we ever learn
Time to settle accounts

Fallen, we turn to our one Hope
Revelation lifting our eyes beyond the debt
Every wrong, every fear. Our account is settled
Every time, it gets paid. Gone forever

We don’t deserve it

Like many of you I get a lot of well meaning fluff in my e-mail Inbox. Not spam but the e-mail equivalent of a chain letter. Much of the fluff in my inbox is Christian in nature and whilst I read it I rarely accept the “challenge” of passing it on unless I feel it is exceptional.

What if we treated our Bible like a mobile phone?

To be honest most of the ones I receive fall into the “Chicken soup for the soul” category – very lovely but a bit sugary for my taste. Sometimes I get one that really does move me and once in a while I get one that acts as a wake up call. I know , I know I could have chosen different words there but in this case it actually does apply. I’m putting (an edited version) of it up here because I just don’t like forwarding chain-letter e-mail but I do feel this particular message applies to a lot of the iPhone generation of Christians. Hope it helps.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if we treated the Bible like we treat our mobile phone?

• What if we always carried it around in our handbags or pockets?
• What if we placed on the table in front of us when out dining in case it demanded our attention whilst eating?
• What if we flipped through it several times a day?
• What if we turned back to go get it if we forgot it?
• What if we used it to receive messages from the text?
• What if we treated the Bible like we couldn’t live without it?
• What if we gave it to all the kids as gifts?
• What if we used it constantly when we travelled?
• What if we used it in case of emergency?
• What would make us say, “Hmm, where is my Bible”?

I’d just like to add a final one of my own.

• How many of us seek out a mobile-Bible app for our ‘phone and then leave it to collect dust in the apps list?

Have a good Monday (or whatever day you are reading this on)

Fizz the puppy

We have a puppy!

Fizz is nine weeks old and is what used to be called a mongrel. She’s what my dad calls a “Heinz 57″. She’s a mutt and we love her. Her dad was a collie of some kind and her mum was part-labrador, part-spaniel, part-pretty-much-every-other-breed I think. She’s very cute and like all puppies she manages to capitalise on it.

As with any puppy, Fizz needs to be house-trained. Being thoroughly modern owners we’ve read “Puppies for dummies” and searched every dog website there is. Most of them seem to be thinly disguised adverts for dog products of some kind. We decided to invest in some “pee pads”. These are the inside of a nappy spread out into a square and they are impregnated with some chemical that allegedly attracts puppies to pee on them. They are the modern equivalent of having newspaper all over the floor. The idea is that they make it easier to train your puppy to go on the pad and then you gradually move the pad closer to the door and eventually outside. This trains the puppy to pee outside.

Dogs can’t read

I know that’s obvious but in our research we forgot that Fizz did not read “Humans for dummies” or browse the many “How to train your new owners” Dog websites. Specifically she did not read the instructions on the packet of pee pads. She didn’t know what they were for nor that they were for her own good. In short she didn’t use them. No, she actually hated them. The wunder-chemical did nothing to attract her to them and whenever we put her on the pad — at the allotted time or when she looked like she was wanting to go — she would sit with that “naughty puppy” look on her face then after half hour of nothing we would let her off and she would pee on the rug. The one time she did “go” on the pad, it was more by fluke than design – we still heaped much praise on her as instructed but it was a one-off. She was getting good at recognising when she needed to go but had no desire to go where we wanted. Such is the way with puppies.

So what could we do? Three days of this had left us with a puppy who was in danger of becoming neurotic about paper on the floor and was still peeing and pooping everywhere else. She seemed to understand this wasn’t the plan but it was like she felt she had no option. We decided to skip the pee pad and starting taking Fizz into the back garden. We had been avoiding this as she hasn’t been vaccinated yet but our garden is enclosed and we have no other dogs.

It worked. From day one Fizz has trotted outside onto the grass and done what comes naturally. within 24 hours she had a regular toilet routine down and she also scratches at the back door to let us know if she needs an interim “leg-stretch”.

And grace..?

So what has any of this to do with grace then? Well when you are standing out in the cold waiting for a puppy to “go wee-wee” you do a lot of thinking. On one of these it occurred to me that the reason there are so many ways to house-train a puppy is because puppies are all different. If they were robotic we could just program their software to act how we want. They’re not robots. they are living things with minds and individuality. The reason this technique worked for us is that it suited Fizz. Other dog owners will experience more success with pee-pads and others still will swear by them (as opposed to at them). Then it occurred to me that humans are like this. We’re fickle, what suits one doesn’t necessarily suit another. It’s long been known that some students thrive in class but are hopeless in exams. Others are the opposite, being able to swot up and regurgitate the relevant facts but not apparently being able to get along in class very well. As someone once said, You are unique – just like everyone else. God knows this. He designed us that way. God seems to like diversity.

As has been often said, he didn’t make us as robots – we have free will. That’s all well and good but it has side effects, not least of which is the one that we could (and do) use our free will to reject the very idea of God altogether. It’s that dangerous game that parents play and none more so than God. The game is that you pour your heart and soul into bringing up your kids and you can at best only hope they won’t reject you and walk away. Most times kids like anyone will respond to a loving upbringing by loving their parents but that love does not always mean they will be what their parents had dreamed. And those with multiple children will know that what works with one child is almost as likely to not work with the next. People, like puppies are diverse. Imagine coming up with a single method of house-training every single puppy which not only works but suits every puppy’s individual needs and desires. It’s almost impossible, that’s why there are so many. If you want another analogy imagine coming up with a fool-proof weight loss programme which would not only work but suit the individual needs of every person who went on it. Again impossible.

Now consider the diversity between two puppies or two children with the same parents. Now project that upwards to the 6 billion people currently on the planet (never mind all the ones who are no longer on it). Imagine trying to come up with a single way to recompense for the diversity of wrong doing and – yes – sin among so many people. Yet God did. In a single act Jesus dealt with the entire range and amount of sin the human race could collectively muster – ever. And yet not one person is dealt with the same. Each person who comes to what we Christians call the “throne of grace” is forgiven completely and finds all their sin, guilt and even shame dealt with once and for ever. Yet each person will leave with a different experience. Each encounters a very personal and real Saviour who reacts and interacts with them in a way that best suits them. In short each encounters grace which sufficient.

That’s why it’s amazing.

Thought I’d start the new year with a cautionary tale.

Somebody once said “There’s no such thing as a normal day”. That is true but there are definitely abnormal days. Days that really could only happen once. At least there had better be or else the day described here could happen again. Before I go any further I want to say this is all absolutely true (except the Bon Jovi bit which I can’t prove) and occurred in mid 2008. At the time, I submitted it as an article for an internal magazine where I was then working but never got around to putting it on here.

Update 19 March 2010: Recently this page has been coming to the top of Google searches for “My child has put cat poo in their mouth”. If you’ve come here looking for what to do I’m afraid I don’t have the answer. The NHS website does say that “Animal faeces (poo) are not ‘poisonous’ but may cause infections and if you are concerned you should call NHS Direct.” Here’s the link to that page (helpfully called “poisoning”) if it helps.

If your child hasn’t been tucking into the cat litter you can read on. Oh and wouldn’t read this while eating if I were you.

Rude awakenings

It all started when my left leg decided it was time to re-introduce me to the idea of cramp. Now I’ve had my fair share of cramp and perhaps it was the fact that I was in the middle of an unusually deep sleep but I don’t recall cramp ever feeling like this! This was man-cramp. My leg felt like it had a shark attached and I went from snore to roar in under a second. I did what any normal human would do and screamed. Actually I didn’t – I was about to when I remembered my loving wife (Claire) sound asleep beside me and being a caring husband (and a complete coward) I thought it best not to wake her at 5:30 in the morning.

So I slid out of bed (the only way I could actually move at the time) and tried to get rid of the cramp by stretching my leg – which of course hurt even more. So now I wanted to scream even more. Time to leave the room and scream elsewhere. They don’t call it cramp for nothing though and my first step resulted in a half lunge and me falling towards the bed. After a clever mid-fall twist which would have made Tom Daley proud I avoided the bed and landed on the floor – right on top of the leg with cramp. So I crawled to the bathroom, stuffed a flannel in my mouth and stretched my leg. After about ten minutes the pain (and the screaming) reduced enough for me to limp back to bed where my – ever so concerned – wife was probably dreaming about Jon Bon-Jovi but was definitely not awake. Phew. The venture was a success in one aspect at least.

I went from roar to snore in under a second. This was man-cramp!

And so back to sleep for all of around 10 minutes when my son (four at the time) started shouting “help!” from his bedroom. Despite some well placed elbows, Bon-Jovi was still holding my wife’s avid attention. So up I got and hobbled into the kids’ room to find him sitting up in the top bunk. He calmly explained that he’d had a nightmare and had “forgotten” to wake up in the middle of it to go to the toilet. The bed was soaked. His sister (three) was as out of it as my wife (but hopefully not dreaming about Jon Bon-Jovi) in the lower bunk. The manager in me took over and I decided that eighties musicians would have to move aside. I, gently, woke my wife and assigned her the task of dealing with our son while I dealt with the bed. Standing on the edge of the lower bunk (with my daughter still asleep in it) I stripped the top one and cleaned up. Eventually the bedding was all piled up and Catnip (his favourite toy) was sitting atop the pile like a wee-covered Guy Fawkes. I decided I’d take them down “in the morning”. By this time my son was clean and in dry jammies and clambered back into bed. I limped back to mine. My wife was already heading back to the eighties and my cramp was dying down so it seemed some sleep was on the cards.

Enter the cat

At this point the cat realised she had not played a big enough part in my morning. She also decided – what with all the moving around – that it must be time for her breakfast. Tempting as it was to help her out of the upstairs window, I hobbled downstairs and fed her with all the grace I could muster. Believe me, she was lucky I didn’t put a funnel in her mouth and pour it down! So after all that it was back to bed and what was left of my sleep.

Believe me at this point the cat was lucky I didn’t open her mouth and pour the food down for her!

But wait! There’s more. Apparently during my cramp-induced gymnastics I managed to knock my alarm clock off the bedside and turned it off. So half an hour after I was supposed to wake up, my son appeared beside my bed and gently shook me. “Ah bless” I thought ,“He probably wants some breakfast”. He probably did, but the reason he was waking me up was to say “Daddy, Pebbles has done a poo in my room”. Pebbles if you haven’t guessed is the afore-mentioned cat. Taking in this glorious news I just knew it would be on the rug and not on the – easy to clean – laminate flooring. “Where abouts?” I asked, anxiously. “On the bottom bunk” came the reply swiftly followed by – a very dead-pan – “and it’s all squishy”. This was enough to drag my wife back from her own personal Ashes-to-Ashes and she went to rescue our daughter from the cat’s new litter tray. After she returned while I limped towards my own personal Life On Mars to clean another bed. Meanwhile Mummy went through the checking-a-child-for-cat-poo-whilst-avoiding-getting-it-on-yourself-and-anything-else procedure (patent pending).

When I arrived there were indeed some “parcels of fun” from Pebbles the cat on the end of the bed and they were indeed, squishy. Not that my daughter had noticed. Apparently she had remained completely asleep while the cat did it’s business and – even with the squishy poo on her bed – I confess I was envious. The cat must have seen my face and decided this was not the time to ask for more food and she sat quietly by the back door waiting for me to open it. If she was smart she’d stay out there all day. I know my cat. She’s not that smart.

A twist in the tale

You’d think this story would end now wouldn’t you but, like an M. Night Shyamalan film, there’s one final plot twist. As I went out to deposit Pebbles’ – er – pebbles ( now in a bag ) into the dustbin I re-discovered that the day before my Father-in-Law ( who to be fair was just trying to be helpful ) had put the kitchen bin liner and put it next to our dustbin. I had “meant” to do something about that before going to bed because, bless him, he didn’t know the reason we have dustbins with lids where I live. They are called foxes and overnight a couple of the little beggars had ripped that bin bag to shreds and spread the contents – offering like – before my front door. They were obviously looking for waste food. Ha! Waste food in our house – nice one.

So there I stood, tired, in bare feet, only one of which I could stand on, holding a bag of poo, before a sea of kitchen waste. Hey, at least the sun was shining. Right in my eyes! So I mopped up the sea, deposited the bag o’ poo and glanced at the clock. Arrghhh – 7:45 – I was supposed to leave at 7:30!

So while “this is the day that the Lord has made” would seem ironic at that moment. “We will rejoice and be glad in it” was a particular struggle. I really hope that was an abnormal day. Because if it wasn’t, there’s a risk that it could happen again and I’m not sure I could survive two days like that.

I know for a fact that my cat won’t!

P.S. My wife has asked me to point out that the bit about Bon Jovi is entirely without evidence or factual basis and is simply a pre-supposition on my part. Glad to get the legal part over but I would like to say that she was very excited when I later gave her tickets to a Bon-Jovi concert

Recently I had the opportunity to help a fellow Christian blogger. The Church Mouse blog is an award winning – er – blog which has been running for around 9 months.

Like many, I follow “the Mouse” on Twitter. A short while back he tweeted a request for help with redesigning his excellent blog. I responded with an offer of help, the mouse from the vestry said yes and we set to work. The new site was released yesterday and it seems to have gone down well. Although I would like to point out that on the web “content is king”, everything else is window dressing. Still we all like to look through nice windows so…

I’m glad Mouse and his followers like the look of the site. He was kind enough to link here with a few words from his blog so I am happy to repay the compliment (oh aren’t we Christians just so lovely to each other?). So if you are new here: welcome and if not: welcome back.

If you are a Christian and haven’t yet read the Church Mouse Blog I can only recommend you do. If you are a tweeter, it wouldn’t hurt to follow him either.

One of the main attractions

During the summer our family visited Suffolk and spent some time doing the tourist bit. We found some great examples of things to do – particularly if you are dragging under 8s around. One shining example was the Oasis Camel Centre.

It’s a bit tricky to find as it’s buried in the heart of Suffolk farm land. That said, there’s a great map on their website which would have been handy had we bothered to prepare this trip before we went on holiday. As the name suggests the main attraction of the place are the camels which are fab. Twice a day there is a meet the camel session during which you can get right up close to one of the magnificent creatures. It being a little harder to get to and not as well known as other Suffolk animal attractions (such as Africa Live) actually works in our favour here as it’s not overly crowded. That said it’s not exactly empty either.

But it’s not just camels, there are llamas, al-pacas and rhea (see below), along with ponies, donkeys, pig and the almost ubiquitous goats, rabbits and peacocks. Add to that the very well kept play areas (including a covered bouncy castle area) and the small but clean and functional cafe and you have a really good out. The entrance prices are reasonable, staff friendly and facilities are good and most importantly the animals are clearly well looked after with plenty of room and you can see they are cared for.

For reference our party consisted of adults in their 30s, 40s and 70s as well as a four and five (sorry nearly six) year old and all of us had a good time. So if you are Suffolk and find yourself wondering what to do, I really recommend the Oasis Camel Centre.

Some welsh cakes I made - image (c) Ryan Cartwright CC:By-SA

Welsh cakes, sometimes called “bakestones” or as my family calls them – “plank-cooks”, are something I’ve enjoyed cooking and eating since I was small. I’ve made them for friends and colleagues to a warm reception. Many have asked for the recipe so here it is. There are lots of welsh cake variations, usually regional. I don’t claim these are the best or easiest they are just the ones that four generations of my family have made.

This makes about 30. Preparation takes around 30 mins. Cooking takes about 45 mins and you need to be there for all of it.

Ingredients

• 1lb/450g Self-raising flour
• ½lb/225g Butter
• 6oz/170g Caster sugar
• 12oz/340g Currants
• 3 Eggs
• drop of milk

Alternatives

• I’ve given both imperial (UK) and metric but in reality I’ve always measured this is imperial so the metric is an approximation.
• You can use Margarine in place of butter but make sure it’s a suitable for baking one (e.g. not Flora light!).
• You can use Sultanas in place of the currants. Raisins will do at a push but can go bitter at the cooking stage.
• I’ve made a sugar-free version (for diabetics) using granular Canderel – use ¾oz/20g in place of all the sugar.

Method

1. Sift the flour ( not strictly required but makes for a smoother mix)
2. Rub the butter into the flour until it is like breadcrumbs
3. Add the fruit and sugar and mix together
4. Add the eggs and mix well
5. Add the milk very gradually while mixing. The consistency you are looking for is like sticky pastry. Not too dry or it will break up when cooking but too sticky will make it hard to roll out.
6. Roll out the mix on a floured surface. Roll it until it is about ¼” / ½ cm thick.
7. Cut into 2½” / 7cm rounds. I use a pastry cutter but my Nan always used the same teacup!
8. Cook on a greased (with butter) smooth griddle or heavy frying pan. They usually take about 30 seconds on each side – until they are brown but not burned. Flip them once and leave to cool.
9. Dust with caster or icing sugar.

Serving

Best served slightly warm with a bit of butter and cup of tea! They are not usually accompanied by jam or cream. if you want that make scones.

Storing

They will keep in an air-tight container for a few days without drying out. You can freeze them when they have cooled properly. Defrost at room temperature and enjoy.

Notes

Don’t be tempted to cook them for too long or they burn. If the inside seems less cooked when you take them off that’s fine. It continues to cook slightly and if you leave them on too long the outside burns and that tastes horrible. My Nan taught me to flip them using my hands (careful though). She said if you could lift them and the underside was stiff they were ready to turn , if they bend too much then you need to leave them a bit.

You can also freeze the dough once it is made and defrost it before cooking but in my experience the best ones are made from fresh dough. In a similar way some recipes recommend chilling the dough for a couple of hours before cooking but that’s not something I was ever taught to do or have tried (habit I guess).

Traditionally they are baked on a smooth griddle – often called a plank or stone. A heavy or thick frying pan will do but some of the more modern frying pans transmit the heat too quickly and the cakes burn. DO NOT use oil on the griddle/pan – instead grease it with buttere