So How Was Your Day, Dear?

Spud: How was your day?  Get hit in the face with many pies?

Tilly: No; but I did have some toothpaste thrown into my ear.

*

Ah, yes.  Church Holiday Club is upon us.

*

Joke 893

Funny Church Signs (Photo credit: au_tiger01)

A preacher was completing a temperance sermon.  With great expression he said, “If I had all the beer in the world, I’d take it and throw it into the river.” With even greater emphasis he said, “And if I had all the wine in the world, I’d take it and throw it into the river.”

And then finally, he said, “And if I had all the whiskey in the world, I’d take it and throw it into the river.”

He sat down. The song leader then stood and announced with a smile, “For our closing song, let us sing Hymn # 365: “Shall We Gather at the River.”

***

Delivering a speech at a banquet on the night of his arrival in a large city, a visiting minister told several anecdotes he expected to repeat at meetings the next day.

Because he wanted to use the jokes again, he requested the reporters to omit them from any accounts they might turn in to their newspapers.

A cub reporter, in commenting on the speech, ended his piece with the following: “The minister told a number of stories that cannot be published.”

*

From ahajokes

Joke 885

Message on notice board at St Peter & St Paul, Shoreham (Photo credit: L2F1)

The following are actual church bulletin board bloopers found in churches across the United States.

• “Next Sunday Mrs. Vinson will be soloist for the morning service. The pastor will then speak on ‘It’s a Terrible Experience’.”
• “Due to the Rector’s illness, Wednesday’s healing services will be discontinued until further notice.”
• “Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our church and community.”
• “A song fest was hell at the Methodist church Wednesday.”
• “Today’s Sermon: ‘How Much Can a Man Drink?’ with hymns from a full choir.”
• On a church bulletin during the minister’s illness: “God is good – Dr. Hargreaves is better.”
• “Potluck supper: prayer and medication to follow.”
• “The outreach committee has enlisted 25 visitors to make calls on people who are not afflicted with any church.”
• “Eight new choir robes are currently needed, due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.”
• “The choir invites any member of the congregation who enjoys sinning to join the choir.”
• A new loudspeaker system has been installed in the church. It was given by one of our members in honor of his wife.
• Please join us as we show our support for Amy and Alan in preparing for the girth of their first child.

From ahajokes.

 

Joke 834

Funny Church Signs (Photo credit: au_tiger01)

A church was surrounded by grounds full of trees. This brought a problem. The squirrels from these grounds were fearlessly scooting around inside the church.

One day, a meeting was called to decide what to do about the pesky squirrels. After much prayer and consideration it was determined that the squirrels were predestined to be there and they shouldn’t interfere with God’s divine will.

Months passed and the problems grew more severe. There was a real danger of stepping on one inadvertently and squashing it under the feet.

A meeting was called again. After much deliberation, it was decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God’s creation. They humanely trapped the squirrels and set them free a few miles outside of town. Three days later, the squirrels were back.

More months passed. There was an unfortunate incident and a meeting was convened urgently. Suggestions flowed easily including one calling for a pied-piper. Finally they settled on an idea which might just work: they baptized the squirrels and registered them as members of the church.

It worked. Now they only see them at Christmas and Easter.

*

Another one from Kaleidoscope. Go read him for yourself!

Whoops! A Daisy

Thank you to everyone who took a look at our church website (old and new) and left feedback.  

We considered every suggestion then threw them out as too radical (mention the opening times? Ridiculous!).

Not really, of course; I was just checking to see if you were paying attention.

Here’s the finished article (sort of; I still have some proof reading to do): St Matthew’s.

It’s been up and running about a month; maybe two…Our Illustrious Leader Pam asked me to thank you all for your contributions (about a month ago; maybe two).

Thank you, all!

Your Help Wanted

Help wanted sign (Photo credit: andjohan)

Do you remember last year when you looked at our church website and told me what was wrong with it?

At last, and only six months behind schedule, I have the new website for you to critique.

It is up and running but not live, so you can’t use the links and things yet, but otherwise, it is pretty much as it will be.

Would you mind taking a look and telling me what you think?  Be as frank as you were last year; I’m sure I won’t cry this time.  I am no usageaster, but I think the language is simpler and clearer.

We took lots of your advice so I hope you like what we’ve done.  As requested, I will include a link to the old website, for you to compare.

New website:  http://edgeleycheadleheath.try.churchedit.co.uk/

Old website:  http://www.edgeleyandcheadleheath.org.uk/

Thank you!

Happy Easter!

Easter seems to be all about dogs this year.

B&B #bb #bedandbreakfast #dog #food #fun #funny #quote #true #joke #humor #irony #joke #sarcasm #actually #spain #igers #igersgirona #igersspain #iphonesia #instagramhub #photooftheday #instamood #bestoftheday #picoftheday #igdaily #jj #meme #rage #clubso (Photo credit: Sin Amigos)

At the Good Friday service, meant to be solemn, tacent and contemplative, we were joined by a sweet Yorkie cross, being babysat by an old lady who told everyone who ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ over the dog, ‘David said it was okay for me to bring Pepper!’*

*David is the vicar and not the old lady’s imaginary friend.  Pepper was the dog.  I didn’t see her wee, or I’d be writing about Pepper spray.

The dog was very well-behaved. Better behaved, in fact, than the old lady, who spent the whole time whispering to the only small child present, who replied in stage whispers.   They seemed to enjoy themselves.

At this morning’s service we had a guide dog in training, a black lab puppy named Max.  Beautiful dog, and also well-behaved.  Not like the time a young man brought his new pup and it did several rapid laps around the pews during the creed.

Perhaps it was the dogs who inspired David today.  Half way through a talk about the astonishment that was felt when the tomb was found to be empty, he apologised for losing his train of thought, but he was starving because he’d had no breakfast – and then he surprised us all by opening a tin of Pedigree Chum and eating some of it.  He shared it with a few brave children and even cornered a young fellow only there because his banns were being read (I wonder if he’ll turn up for the wedding?).

Mars bar (UK style). Photo by sannse. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It was semi-melted Mars Bar, of course, poured into a re-labelled prunes can; but David shared that information only with those of us who asked him after the service if it really was a tin of Chum?  I’m a little worried, now I think about it, that many people didn’t ask him what was in the tin; did they take his act at face value?  No doubt, he will forever be remembered in the parish as that funny bloke in the long dress who ate dog food during the sermon.

As my friend Lois said in relation to something else entirely, but which seems rather apposite here – you can find anything in the Church of England.

*

The previous word was ‘slimsy’: Flimsy, frail – what this post is in relation to the true Easter story.  

If you celebrate it, Happy Easter!

I Need A Favour

Dear readers, will you please do me a favour?  At my church, we are updating our website.   We need some input.  Half of our congregation were born before electricity was invented – Church of England; did you guess? – and wouldn’t know the internet or computers if they jumped up to byte them on the butt, so it’s no good asking them.  The other half is me.

Would you mind answering a few questions?

• Would you ever look at a church website?
• If so, why?
• What would you expect to find on a church website?
• What would you like to find on a church website?

To add to your goodness, would you mind taking a quick look at the website as it is, and telling me what’s wrong with it?  And what, if anything, is right with it?

Also, if you have links to other church websites, please share.

Please leave all comments below, and don’t worry about hurting my feelings: if ever a website needed an overhaul, it’s ours.  That much I do know.

Thanks 🙂

Had Fun; I’m Glad It’s Over

Apologies: the photos are quite dark because my camera isn’t good enough for the space we were in.  I have not included any pictures of the children because some parents will not allow their photographs to be included on a public forum, and I’m not sure which children that affects.  If you look at our church website in a couple of days, you will see more and better pictures, not taken by me.

Church Holiday Club: if that phrase conjures visions of earnest adults indoctrinating children with religion (as it does for the Hub), then you obviously grew up in the Fifties.  It’s not like that here in Stockport: let’s just say that Tottenham is not the only place to have had a riot this week.

There has been singing, stories, dancing, crafts, drama, architecture, puppetry, games, joke-telling and jungle japes.  Sometimes we let the children join in.

The week started with a roll of corrugated cardboard, masking tape, and the instruction to ‘build a hut’.  Thirty children were split into three groups and our ten looked like they needed a tunnel, so that’s what they got: a foyer, a tunnel and a grand exit.  They decorated it with paper leaves on the first morning.  The intention was to cover the hut with leaves by the end of the week, but we were too busy enjoying ourselves to finish it.

Welcome to our humble abode

The baby group had the best builders

The real estate market finally started to pick up

After group time we joined the others in the pews for a singalong, with actions.  Then it was time for a little drama: The Watt Family (a family of five in the script, pared down to just Grandma and Wendy, due to a dearth of actors) took a trip to Africa; parachuted into the jungle because of engine failure; got lost; were rescued by a friendly chief; and celebrated their safe arrival with a nice cup of English tea.

I played Wendy. Wendy was a naughty girl who didn’t listen and wound up tied to a tree as lion fodder.  I’m sure you’ll be glad to know she was rescued, though the Hub was a little disappointed to hear it.

You can tie me to a tree but you'll never take away my freedom...

At one point, Wendy carried a suitcase that was stolen by a thief (David, the vicar).  Wendy and the thief tussled for dramatic effect; Wendy, in her excitement, forgot to let go and was dragged up the aisle by the twice-her-size-and-much-stronger enemy, landing flat on her backside.  Wendy fell over, yet I have the bruises; funny, that.

Tilly had a great week, but got a little plastered

The next hour was taken up with crafts, games and snack time, then it was back to the pews for more singing and jokes and a puppet show, before we all went back to our huts for going-home time.  Apart from when I’m blogging, I have never known two hours disappear like that: we packed each morning with fun activities and lots of laughter, and our reward was happy children and aching backs.

The children had a lesson in DIY

We know they enjoyed the week but I’m not sure if they got the message of love that we hoped they would: when asked what was the best thing about their time with us, one child said to me, ‘I liked the bit where David pushed you over.’

All Jedi have to start somewhere

Today’s post title is my Six Word Saturday entry.  Click on the link to join in the fun.

My niece and nephew arrive for a visit today, and I’m still pretending to do this week’s missed housework, but I promise to catch up on visits and comments soon.  Honest.

By Popular Demand

A home from home

Wendy & Granny visit Africa

Wendy & Granny get lost in Africa - a friendly Chief helps

Church: It’s Complicated

Sunday.  Go to church.  Nothing difficult there, you’d think; I’ve been doing it for years.  Think again.

Our church is now made up of three congregations and, instead of just across the road from my house, it’s a 10-15 minute walk, uphill all the way.  That’s fine, so long as I time it right.

Our church is now made up of high church (old) and modern church (new).  That’s fine, it suits me when I have a writer’s group meeting to go to the earlier, more formal service.

Our church is trying not to be all things to all men (that’s God’s job), but to gently combine the two styles into something unique to our mixed congregation.

So far, so not too interesting.

Our church has a nine-thirty service and eleven-fifteen service (tea & coffee between so the congregations socialise).

Our church has all-age worship, children-go-out-halfway-through worship, sung eucharist, morning prayer, short said service, Holy Communion, all-age morning worship, all-age Holy Communion, four different types of Wednesday communions, and an exhausted vicar.

The first Sunday in the month, there’s one service, a whole-parish worship, which starts at ten-thirty.  When I got up on Sunday morning I knew I was going to the ten-thirty service, because it was the first Sunday in the month.  So no one was more surprised than me when ten o’clock came and it was time for me to get ready – I had fifteen minutes to dress, make up, brush teeth, go to the toilet three times, make a brew for the Hub, kiss him goodbye, and leave.

I had showered, fortunately, but I had it in my head that if I got ready at ten I would be in plenty of time for the ten-thirty service. I realised at ten-o-one that would only happen if I had access to an Enterprise transporter.  Or a bike.

Hmm…molecule separation and re-mashing hadn’t been invented by ten-o-one last Sunday morning; but bikes had.  And I had a bike.  Problem solved.

Hmmm…I had not practised riding uphill at this point, but how hard could it be?

The Hub insisted I take a bike chain with me (‘You know what church people are like: if it isn’t nailed down, they’ll sell it at the next coffee morning’).  He had sorted out a few bike chains but one was a combination lock to which we had lost the combination; one was the ideal length but had no lock; and one was a motorbike chain with a lock and key.  I thrust the motorbike chain into my bag and wobbled off as far as the pavement, where I had to grab hold of a passing neighbour to stop myself falling side-on into the road: motorbike chains weigh almost as much as the motorbikes they don’t let robbers steal.

I tried the bag on my right shoulder, my left shoulder, my right handle bar, my left handle bar and balancing it on the cross bar.  I almost went over the top with that one.  Eventually I sort of had it sort of draped over the middle of the bike and had ridden almost fifty yards.  I reached a short incline.  I had to get off and wheel it because I’d forgotten which handle had the gears on.

I got on again at the top of the incline and rode another fifty yards to the bottom of Northgate Road.  Northgate Road is well named, as it goes north.  And I mean north as in straight up, not north as in the opposite of south on a flat land.  I was game, however, and got as far as one rotation of the pedals before I realised there was something wrong with my bike.  Not moving despite short legs pounding the pedals furiously is a bit of a give away, as is a funny flat floo-ped sound.

I got off the bike and checked everything.  I might as well have given our car the once-over instead for all the good it did, but it was better than not checking everything.  I thought it might be worth running my hands over the tyres.  That’s when I discovered that tyres are dirty, greasy and often layered in dog poo; and that the inner tube had now become an outer tube.

I turned my sad little vehicle around and wheeled it home, floo-peding all the way.

Have I ever mentioned that I have the best husband in the world (despite Sarsm’s claim)?  It takes a couple of hours for his body to de-creak but he dragged himself out of bed, pushed me into the car, and left me outside the church door, waving an emotional goodbye at precisely 10:29.  There are days when I’m glad he didn’t do that back in 1985.

I’m not the only one who had a false start that day.  The joint service is a mix of old and new.  The new starts with a couple of songs to warm us all up and to give late-comers (tut) a chance to grab a seat at the back.  The old didn’t realise that, and started the procession down the aisle with the banners on poles when the first song started, as always.  Then the old discovered their mistake, turned around, and proceeded gravely back up the aisle.

Second warm-up song: same thing.  By the third song, which was the first hymn, the old was late, hanging around at the back of the church, waiting for their cue.

Some people leave everything to the last minute. 

Jungle Jolly

It’s that time of year: the local kids come to watch Auntie Tilly dress up in funny clothes and act out execrable but well-intentioned scripts.  Yes, Church Holiday Club is upon us once more.

It was more 'Pirates of Penance' than 'Penzance'

It seemed like a good idea last year when I volunteered; and I did enjoy it, which is why I volunteered again.  But I forgot how scared I felt beforehand.  I’m sitting here with caterpillar offspring where my stomach should be, and not liking it.

It also means, of course, beloved readers, that I won’t be around as much this week.  I know, I know, it was selfish of me to schedule the decorating week so close to the holiday club week, but what could I do?  I am much in demand, as I told the vicar when I cornered him about pleeeeease letting me in again.

They had to accept my help when they realised that the theme was jungle and I’m the only one who’s lived in Africa, so I have all the great props.  I didn’t let on that in Africa we have bush, not jungle.  It’s a common misconception and the kids won’t know the difference so don’t you say anything.

I have scheduled some short posts for you.  I will get to your blogs and comments but I may be a day or two late.  Don’t desert me.

Now, where did I put that spear?  I’ll need it for the lion.*

*Spot the deliberate mistake.

*

Footnote:

I’m having a giggle to myself this morning.  Adding my tags, I used ‘jungle’ and thought I should include ‘bush’, because people confuse the two.  One of this post’s themes is mistakes.  A lot of people are going to be seriously annoyed when they Google President Bushisms and find themselves reading this.

Never misunderestimate the power of a good tag.

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.

Why Are Pirates Pirates? Because We Arrrrr!

 

I haven’t told you about my secret life as a pirate.  That’s me on the right, impeccably dressed as always.  The person on the left is Captain Kate, my boss.  My AKA name is Dangerous Daisy (and if you’ve tasted my cooking you’ll know why).

Our church has an annual week-long summer holiday club, for 7-11s.  I have managed to avoid it until now but I felt it was time to do my bit when somebody asked me, ‘Isn’t it time to do your bit?’  Spud had shacked up with his PS3 for the duration so I wasn’t needed at home and thus had no excuse to get out of it. 

The club has a different name each year to tie in with the theme.  This year’s theme was pirates and the club was called Landlubbers.  Which is odd now I think about it, because pirates tend to live on the sea, don’t they?  Aaarrrr!

At the meeting to dole out jobs we were asked who was good at drama; being a moron, I said I was: I had visions of directing the children in happy activities, you see.  ‘Great!’ came the reply, ‘You can act in the play every day.’  As compensation I also got to make the mid-morning snack: preparing food – just where my skill lies….

The week is about sharing Jesus with local children; numbers are rising, they like it, and don’t seem to mind us throwing in a bit of religion so long as we have plenty of fun activities for them to do like crafts, singing, games and, this year, den building.  Weirdly, it was the girls who built the dens and the boys who sat and watched.  I guess they’ve lost the use of their thumbs after all those hours in front of Playstations.

Or perhaps they were afraid for their lives: one of the games was called Cannonballs and involved two teams throwing soft balls at each other.  When the whistle blows, the team with the most balls loses, their ship having been sunk by the cannonballs.  Or in Child B’s case, the mouth in the most pain loses.  She was hit in the face with a soft ball thrown so hard (by a boy too weak to build a den) she burst into tears.  Still, at least she wasn’t Child A, frozen in fear when a ball hit the light above him and broke the shade, which crashed to the ground millimetres from where he stood.  They say a little religion is a dangerous thing. 

The children had a blast and I must confess that they weren’t the only ones.  Running around pews chasing villains, pulling sharks from my pants, being bonked on the head by a milk bottle (thrown by the vicar, not the audience; I didn’t realise my acting was that bad), hamming it up and improvising when I forgot my lines (despite having the script in my hand): what a great way to spend a week!  I sent up a little prayer of thanks each day: Dear Lord, thank you for making up with a sense of humour what I lack in acting ability.  Amen.

I can’t wait for next year; I hear they’re looking for actors.

 

 

Titled

Had fun in church this morning, trying not to laugh at my neighbour.  People were nattering through the notices and without a hint of irony she turned to me as the vicar was imparting something important and said, ‘I hate it when people talk through the announcements.’

*

The Writer’s Island prompt this week is ‘titles’.  We must take an album and use the song titles as they are to make a poem.  I couldn’t find inspiration that way so I have taken the song titles from Blondie’s Parallel Lines and used only those words but not in order:

Parallel Lines

I happen on you, one Sunday,
just hanging glass.
I’m gonna radiate heart;
love this, too.

But baby, will I fade away?
Know, pretty girl: anything.
Or know of another way.

Picture the telephone:
11:59.
Go away.
And don’t.

*

I never said it would be good!  Here are the titles:

• Hanging on the Telephone
• One Way or Another
• Picture This
• Fade Away and Radiate
• Pretty Baby
• I Know But I Don’t Know
• 11:59
• Will Anything Happen?
• Sunday Girl
• Heart of Glass
• I’m Gonna Love You Too
• Just Go Away

*

And here’s a little poem about titles in general:

The Thing About Poems Is

titles
are
vital