Weekly Photo Challenge: Old-Fashioned

I attended the early service this morning in my Anglican church.  We combined with two other churches in the parish at Easter.  The church where we are now based is high church, as opposed to us low church, or enjoy-it-enough-to-almost-be-called-‘happy-clappy’-if-we-weren’t-all-too-frightfully-British-to-actually-clap-in church.

The early service is extremely formal: the Gospel reading requires everyone to stand, and is made in the middle of the congregation.  I suppose the thinking is that it’s at the centre of everything.  It is made with people – I don’t know what they are called – in long, white robes holding crosses on sticks, surrounding the vicar, who reads the scripture from the biggest Bible I’ve ever seen in real life.  It is all rather solemn and old-fashioned.

The reading was from Matthew; the parable of the sower.  The vicar read, And he told them many things in parables, saying, at which point he drew breath, just as the only baby in the room said, Dada.

I’ll tell you what is definitely not old-fashioned – a giggling vicar.

All The Fun Of The Aviation Fair

You can click on the pics to enlarge them.  Assuming they are still here: it took me a couple of hours and innumerable problems to load them, but I’m scheduling this post and I fear the photos may go the way of my You Tube videos. 

I thought at first it was going to be a dull day because the Hub warned Spud and I in the car, ‘No making fun of the geeks’; but then I met Concorde.  Sigh.  My one true love.  I’ve always loved Concorde.  The only two planes I wouldn’t be afraid to fly on are Concorde – too beautiful to fear – and Air Force One – safest plane in the whole world, I’m guessing.

A Hub pic from last year because you can't take a good photo when your palms sweat, your heart races and your hands shake through lurve...

I didn’t expect to be taken back to high school disco time:

Such indignity. At least as a teen the handstamp face didn't look wrinkled.

Spud and I had fun looking at the planes, and bits of planes:

This one is a museum inside, but so dull, I didn't bother taking a picture.

Another:

This one looked as strong as a kite.

Boring text between each picture because it’s the only way I can get all the pics in one post:

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown...

We paid £1 each to sit on top of a routemaster that didn’t go anywhere; don’t ask me why (why we paid to sit on top of a stationary bus; not why we paid £1: we paid £1 because they wouldn’t let us up there until we did):

I see no airships.

I got to realise a never-held ambition to sit in a racing car:

That's not fun on my face; it's fear: the back rest also doubles as the petrol tank. The owner showed me the button to press for the extinguisher (under my ankles). That was to give me time to get out before going up into a fireball. Provided I have two strong men to remove the steering wheel and yank me out.

Spud also went in the racing car:

He totally got it.

He admired a military bike and sidecar:

No jokes, comrades; we think it's Soviet-era.

And rounded off a fun-packed morning looking at non-moving transport with a little exercise:

Swing when you're winging...

My washing line at home; also known as 'Time-out Zone'

But we did get some cracking close-ups (and by ‘we’ I mean, of course, ‘the Hub’; all of these other badly composed, over-exposed photos are mine):

I'm not supposed to use this one because they sponsor United, but it's my favourite, and the Hub isn't, so I win.

Joke 108

A shy man goes into a bar and sees a beautiful woman sitting at the bar.  After some time trying to pluck up courage, he finally goes over to her and asks tentatively, “Would you mind if I chatted with you for a while?”

To which she yells at the top of her lungs, “No, I won’t sleep with you tonight!”

Everyone in the bar stares at them.  The man is utterly embarrassed and slinks back to his table. After a few minutes, the woman walks over to him and apologises. She smiles at him and says, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I’m a journalist and I’ve got an assignment to study how people respond to embarrassing situations.”

To which he yells at the top of his lungs, “What do you mean £200?”