Still Striving For that Elusive Halo

A couple of days ago I received a text message from a number I didn’t recognise it read:-

‘Spent Wed at elephant village, and mini Siam, boys went to go-karting.  Thurs went to Pattaya crocodile farm and walked round market in Pattaya. Tday swim at hotel then into Jomtien to sit on a dif beach.’

It totally confused me and after reading it a couple of times, I decided that someone had sent a message to the wrong number, contemplated texting them back then decided against it just in case it was some kind of scam that would mean my reply would elicit more texts or some kind of hefty mysterious charge on my phone bill.

This morning I received another one, ‘Now in Phayao’ it began.  Then as I read the next words a light bulb suddenly clicked on - ‘for Wedding & Blessing.  It was from a parishioner who has travelled to Thailand for the wedding of her son, she is obviously using a different phone not her own. 

For those of you who are wondering the wedding was wonderful, they have been treated like celebrities and she has had a fabulous time.

This episode made me think of Advent and how easy it is to miss a message which comes from an unusual or unknown source.  Would John the Baptist in his camel hair, eating locus and honey be the kind of character we would expect to announce the coming of the Messiah?  Those of a Christian faith might hear and read his message now and comprehend it’s meaning and message, but would we have back then on the shores of the Jordan, would we have even travelled all the way to listen to it?

As Advent progresses we need to remember to keep our eyes and ears open, not just for the things we expect or hope to hear and see, in the places and from the people we expect or hope to hear and see them from, but open all the time, ready to receive from wherever and whoever God chooses to speak to us through.  Preparation is about more than being ready for the expected, but also about being ready and prepared for the unexpected.  We do not know the day or hour, and if we are not careful we might miss or dismiss it thinking it is something else!

Although they stand at nearly 3ft tall it took us a while to get our eye in and see the parent and offspring standing proudly on the cliff face from the little boat we were in, it was only when the boat was manoeuvred around and they were silhouetted against the sky that any kind of picture could be taken.  These pictures were taken on our recent trip around Scotland and the event was one of the highlights of the whole trip, for a moment we thought the youngster was going to fly off but then they changed their mind and settled back down on their grand perch.

Yesterday the weather was glorious, so Harvest Festival and visits over we decided to take advantage of the sun and head off in ‘Baby’ to the Troon.

By the time we arrived at the beach it was late afternoon but the sun was still shinning brightly over Arran and the sand was warm from its attention all day.  Its softness gave way beneath our feet curling over my shoes and trickling its warm grains inside them.  We walked towards the sea were the sand was firmer, still damp from the receding water, then travelled along the beach following the gentle lapping waves.  The sky was a gentle blue dusted in places with light clouds, one of which look remarkably like an angel keeping watch over Prestwick airport:

okay so I have a good imagination, but in the flesh it did look like an angel, even Hubby admitted it.

We made our usual walk along the beach, me taking off my shoes to paddle through the crisp but not cold water that had created small tributaries down to the sea, but soon our destination was upon us and the shoes had to go back on as we clambered over the rocks like children exploring what was in the rock pools.  There were the usual clear shrimps and dog fish which could only be seen as they moved, a whelk making the long journey across its rock pool world, and lots and lots of hermit crabs, some of them quite large, but the late sun kept glancing off the water was making them camera shy.  Finally however this one popped out just as I was in the right place, with camera in hand.

My thoughts returned to the service that morning, the piles of tins, tea, coffee, sugar, and chocolate bars, the harvest too of soap, shower gel and shampoo, a Harvest thanksgiving from an urban congregation.  Here in front of me was a hermit crab, needing the protection of a borrowed shell to keep itself safe as it scurried across the rockpool.  While St Mark’s Harvest offering would make its way to those who need help, acting if only for a short while, like that shell protecting those in need for their life on the streets.  Just like that angel in the clouds above Preswick Airport they too are being over looked and cared for, by the angels in disguise which make up the congregation of St Mark’s, and countless other people who support and work in Glasgow City Mission.

As the sky started to turn to red with the sinking sun bouncing off the underside of the whispy clouds, we walked back along the now near deserted beach.  With the dissapearing sun the sand had now turned cool and was not as welcome  trickling into my shoes as it had been on the outward journey, while the air had taken on the crispness of an Autumnal day, it wasn’t unpleasant, but I for one was glad we wouldn’t be spending the night there.  As we left the beach and the hermit crabs behind I thanked God for the Harvest, and a home to return to.

It is so difficult to get hold of rabbits for eating, yet everywhere I go these days there seems to be loads of them around.  Have people become so sentimental about their food that they would rather see rabbits eating vegetables in some field, or run them over with their car than have them on their dinner plate?  Why do I have to either travel into Glasgow or order them on-line, it seems ridiculous for something that is so plentiful.

Okay so the break wasn’t a very long one, but it was a break and it was enjoyable.  Hubby thought he was just off for a Sunday afternoon drive, but I had a surprise in store for him.  It is a long time since I had been to the Border Abbeys, and Hubby had never been so seemed like a good idea, so off we set across country down the Clyde Valley, in fine weather with ‘Baby’s’ hood down, destination Melrose Abbey.

On the way we stopped off at Neidpath Castle, a borders tower which I have driven past on many occasions but it has never been open.  It has a lovely honesty about it, you can see work in progress.  Unfortunately it would appear that this is the last season it will be made open to the public which is a shame, however on the other hand, if it means it will once more be used as a home for someone then that is all to the good.

Back in ‘Baby’ we headed once more towards Melrose and it’s Abbey, debating as we travelled what we might do on our return home that evening. 

Melrose Abbey is a glorious building, while much of it has long since gone, the stones raided for the construction of later buildings in the town and surrounding area, it is still an impressive building.  It was the White Monks who called Melrose home, and while there own lives were austere the Abbeys in which they worshipped became very ornate.

The wonderful stone vaulted ceilings have fine bosses many of which are still clearly identifiable, such fine work for something most people who worshipped in that place would never see.

Of course like all the border Abbeys and many other church buildings up and down the land Melrose suffered at the Reformation.  Melrose was fortunate in many respects though in that it was adapted rather than destroyed.  A new plain barrel ceiling and square pillars with an industrial feel were added, however much of it’s beauty remained.

A lot of the stonework has survived in remarkable condition and I was slightly surprised, but delighted, to see that some was still in its original places out braving the elements.  St Peter surviving in remarkable condition, will St Paul who stands not far from him has been less fortunate with weather damage clearly taking its toll.  Meanwhile on the roof a statue of Mary and Jesus also remained in place, although both have been defaced, there is little other damage.

Again there were spiral stairs to climb this time not only for the views around but also for a view of the roof itself and the bell which the monks had once climbed daily to ring the steps worn by countless feet. 

Then of course there is the gargoyles, and one in particular, a bagpipe playing pig!

Melrose is certainly a fine Abbey and well worth a visit, you could easily spend a day there, in the gardens, exploring the graveyard and museum - a fine building which I could happily live in - as well as the Abbey itself, we will doubtless be back, in fact we nearly never left as we were locked in as it was past closing time.

Getting back into ‘Baby’ the discussion about what to do that evening resumed.  Time to put the remained or my plan into action, I suggested driving a bit further on to Dryburgh Abbey, just for a look, by which time Hubby might have made a decision.  Following the signs we neared the Abbey only for me to take a wrong turning at the last minute, or so he thought.  Next to the Abbey is a hotel where I had booked us in for the night, to make the most our Borders Break.

Dryburgh Abbey Hotel is a lovely place to stay if you are visiting the borders, with views of the Tweed and the Abbey through the trees.  We had what can only be described as an excellent dinner, which if we had paid for in Glasgow or Edinburgh would have meant the room was free!  Cheese in oatmeal with apple compote and vension carpaccio with beetroot for starters, then apricot sorbet and celeriac and thyme soup, then I had the most wonderful melt in the mouth piece of beef and plum tart while Hubby had whole stuffed grouse the meal was rounded off with creme brulee and a walk in the night air down by the river.  The morning saw a fine breakfast - Hubby used to think kippers were orange since meeting me he now knows they aren’t and he tucked into Arbroath Smokies and scrambled eggs with great relish.  Then it was time to check out and investigate the next door Abbey.

If I had to chose I think Dryburgh Abbey would be my favourite of the three Abbeys we visited.  It has a very calming and peaceful feel about it; our first proper glimpse of the Abbey was across the wall through the trees in the morning light. 

The man in the Historic Scotland shop said that it was the trees that were the important thing about the place, I think he got that wrong but didn’t want to engage in a debate about it, although the trees that surround the Abbey are fine indeed - will post a separate picture blog of them later - so we left the wooden hut and walked out into the Abbey grounds.  Although the Abbey is smaller than that of Melrose, it seems far more complete, you can walk up the night stair (the lower half is wooden and not original), the day stair is also still visible and several other features which are usually long gone and left to the imagination or a line drawing on a fading board are still there to see.

As you wander across the cloisters you hear the sound of chanting coming from the Chapter House, a wonderful cool room, but it isn’t just the music that draws you in, the place is inviting and peaceful, I found myself wondering how the man in the wooden hut could call the trees the most important thing about the site.  You can still vaguely see some of the Chapter House orginal plaster work and painting.

There was another surprise in store in here, but this one was not man made, there is one of the high arches were the window cut into the ceiling a swallow had made a nest and the parents were constantly flying in and out feeding their young.

 The Abbey has the most charming of grave yard surrounding it, I know some people just can’t understand why I like graveyards so much I just do, Hubby is getting used to it now and I think secretly is starting to get just as interested.  I can hear the man in the wooden hut even now saying - it’s only charming because of the trees!  

If you look in-between the trees you can see, what for me, was a new style of headstone.  On one side there is a craving of a person reading, I am presuming the Bible, with an angel’s head looking down on them on the other side is the back of the angel and the details of the person whose grave it is.

I could have happily spent the whole day just wandering around Dryburgh Abbey, sitting and doing nothing much, but it was time to move on, Kelso was calling with its Abbey and two Castles!

As we drove towards Kelso and being suckers for brown signs (it doesn’t always pay off), we diverted off the main road and headed towards Smailholm Tower the home of the Pringles, no not the snack that once you start you can’t stop.  The Pringles were a border family who lived in this tower for over 200 years, it had to be easy to protect due to raiding parties from over the border, and while we visited it on a lovely clear day it must be a miserable place to be in the winds, rain and snow of a East Coast Autumn and Winter. 

The house feels quite claustrophobic inside, but clambering past the cows and up the spiral staircase is rewarded with magnificent views around the borders.

It wasn’t a long detour as there isn’t actually a lot to see at Smailholm Tower so soon we were back on our way again, daring the threatening clouds by keeping ‘Baby’s’ top down. 

We arrived at Floors Castle in time for lunch, their Courtyard restaurant rare beef bap is highly recommended!  The castle is the home of the Duke of Roxburgh and sits overlooking the Tweed and Kelso in grounds surrounded by a very very very long wall which we had to drive around once to get in and then again to get out and back were we wanted to be.  Although it looked rather plain from a distance, is fairytale when close up.  The battery had died in my camera by this time, and I had forgotten to bring the spare, so the pictures from now on are thanks to Hubby.

The Castle has some wonderful items inside, the Pentecost tapestry for one, and while the Bird Room is a lovely room it being full of over 400 stuffed birds, some of them extinct, was not my cup of tea.  As we neared the end of our walk round inside the Castle we were caught up by a coach party and decided it was time to leave, so off we headed for Kelso. 

As I have already blogged about Kelso Abbey I don’t intend to add anything more about it in this particular posting, suffice to say, unless you are really keen and have some time to kill you wont have missed anything much by missing it out.

Then it was back in the car to hunt for Roxburgh Castle, the ruins of which we had seen from Floors Castle on the other side of the Tweed.

Roxburgh Castle is not an easy Castle to find and is not signposted so after driving past it and finding no road we took the next turning and headed towards the village of Roxburgh down narrow country lanes with no passing places.  Fortunately we didn’t meet anything and the drive alongside the river was a very pleasant one, but try as we might we were having no luck in reaching the Castle itself.  Then we saw a sign, not for the Castle but for a wood turner and decided to go and have a browse.  The browse was well rewarded when Hubby was able to pick up two wonderful pieces of Bur Maple for a couple of shelves he has been planning for a while now, they also do wood turning courses and I picked up a leaflet, maybe one day.  As we left we explained how we had happened upon them only to then be told that the Castle was in the field behind the workshop and the farmer didn’t object to people going to have a look as long as they didn’t disturb the cows.  I took one look at the field with its long grass, nettles and thistles and decided against it, but Hubby climbed the gate and strode off to bring back these pictures for me.

Then it was back home, if you have never explored the Scottish Borders then we can highly recommend them, we had managed to have ‘Baby’s’ hood down for the whole trip which was an added bonus but even if the weather hadn’t smiled on us it still would have been a good weekend.

Something caught my attention out the corner of my eye, while we were away.

I thought at first it was a butterfly then I heard the buzz.

Then it landed.

It was at least 2 inches long, I had no intention of getting closer to find out for certain, but I did manage to take a picture of it.

Is this a hornet?  If so how did it get so big, and are hornets of this size now native in Scotland?

Someone please tell me it must have been blown in by a wind from somewhere else, otherwise if this is a consequence of global warming I think a colder climate could be calling!

There I was standing in the kitchen sorting out dinner, when Hubby commented on how unusual it was to see so many sparrows together. He is so observant! It is only the fledging sparrows who have been chirping away for weeks from the bird box in next doors garden out having their first flight, which of course he hadn’t even been aware of. Unfortunately even with the zoom I couldn’t get very close to them before their parents decided not to take any risk as to whether I was a friend of foe moved their healthy brood of four on.

Just about everywhere I go at the moment there are lambs, so I thought it was time to post a couple of pictures of them.

I know it should be milk and honey, but there wasn’t any honey while there was plenty of milk, and there was a Synod.

The Barony College near Dumfries hosted our Spring Synod this year, the second time we had taken a trip there for the meeting, last time there had been snow, this time there were cows. The Barony College is an agricultural college which has a new automatic milking machine for cows. Instead of someone having to milk them twice a day come rain, hail, snow or shine; the cows, decide themselves when they will be milked knowing that in doing so they will also get some different feed. Now I am not usually one for traipsing around farm yards, but as I always try and have a camera with me, this seemed like too good a photo opportunity to miss so off I went to explore the cows’ camera in hand.

The cows seem very content, currently they are just in the barn as it is winter, and while they send most of their time eating and ruminating they also patiently queue up to take their turn in the milking machine once in a while. Once they step into the machine lasers find their udders then waters jets up to clean them before the suction cups fix on, before you know it milk is flowing freely, once the process has finished the cows leisurely walk out and give a contented moo, and the equipment is automatically cleaned, ready for the next one.

There were also some cows heavy with calf and some young calves some of whom are fed automatically, is this teaching them about what lies ahead?

So much for the milk, what about Synod?

Well we agreed to forward the process in which we can be recognised as a fair trade diocese. In Dumfries itself the work of many years between the SEC and the Methodist was formalised with the diocese baking the proposal for St John’s to be made a LEP. Everyone was delighted that our project here at St Mark’s - which the diocese is funding a major part of - is coming in under budget and St George’s Maryhill was changed from being an incumbency to an independent congregation. While what I had gone to synod expecting to be the major topic for discussion - the strategic review - was all but glanced over.

It wasn’t a bad Synod, but I was left thinking if the highlight was an automatic milking machine and a couple of barns of cows and calves, does that make it a good one?