UPHILL ALL THE WAY

A circular journey can only be 50% uphill. (I know many people who just don't get that statement.)
Life, however, doesn't seem to be a circular journey, at least not yet, and today is uphill all the way. Wife was in one of her "stay out of my way I'm moving things" moods and ended up instigating a shouting match just because I couldn't remember where I'd taken a pair of shoes off over a week ago - an irrelevant point as it turned out as they turned up under a table where she'd put them. The only thing to do in these situations (which seem to be gaining in frequency of late) is to get as far away as possible, which is what I was trying to do. I was considering cycling to Haverfordwest, but first took Jasmine and Dylan on our first ever bikeride up the road to Memorial Park, where we rode round the paths and on the grass. They both impressed me with their cycling skills and stamina. They had a little difficulty tackling some of the slopes, but much less than expected. It was a cold and dull morning though, and as we headed back I noticed the first spots of rain and decided against a longer ride, opting instead to make a good stew for dinner, which everyone enjoyed, but I was unable to shake off my annoyance at the earlier altercation. Everyone (except me) went off to bed early, after a fine supper of scones with jam and clotted cream.
It's raining steadily and heavily, and I'm starting to ache in every joint.
I've found some missing Johnny Cash CDs and have converted them to MP3, and am enjoying hearing them again, particularly the spiritual songs - The Man Comes Around, My Own Personal Jesus. I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry cut me like the ice cold wind tonight.
Everyone seems enthusiastic about church tomorrow. Last week it was just Jassie and I, and she wanted to be a grownup and join in the service rather than playing with the toys which are left out for them. I'm glad we've found a church where we all feel equally welcome at last. I was left feeling pretty dismayed after our first few attempts. The first was a Pentecostal church, and the congregation consisted of a few veteran diehards who were dry old sticks. There was no music and the service was a cold austere affair, and not one any of us wished to repeat. St John's Church is the "busy" church but I have a natural aversion to the vicar there. Angie enjoyed going to the Bethel Chapel, but I found it strange and claustrophobic, though we went along as someone actually came knocking on the door to invite us. There seemed to be a healthy Sunday School, but I couldn't reconcile myself with the general weirdness of the services, which seemed to be unscripted and haphazard, but still lacking in spontaneity. St Teilo's is small, welcoming, very child friendly, and close by. They do not have a priest of their own, but have a roster of visiting vicars who are all OK by me, and their service starts at 11am, a most civilised time. The choir is one which needs to be experienced - when the organist is absent a clarinettist stands in, and always pitches the song just out of the range of the three old dears who comprise the choir which results in a lot of squeaking, missed beats, and general embarrassment, but who's to care?
I have a problem with religion in that almost all my friends are completely at odds with "The Church", religion in general, and especially the big J, for their own personal reasons. I have had friends of the Christian persuasion, but most of them have been barking mad, apart from The Harrison Family, who still remain the best examples of Christians I've ever met. I too have my reservations about organised religions of any denomination, but thanks to a hospital Chaplain (Michael Forster) I'm no longer self-conscious about going to church, and my feeling is that I can get as involved (or not) as I wish.
A scene which haunts my memory is during the funeral of my good friend Jim Gamble. Myself and PJ were being driven around by Jim's son Kristyan, who has been living in Cornwall for the past few years and has not had as much contact with his dad as he perhaps might. He was wondering aloud about his father's spirituality, saying that he never knew "that side of him".
PJ, an ardent and vociferous anti-christian, stated that Jim didn't believe in God, and I was perhaps a little too quick to correct this, as it was something which Jim had spoken to me of quite often in our conversations of the last few years. I regret saying anything now, as I hope it didn't come across as an "I knew him better than you" kind of statement, but I had to say something, and later, when PJ and I were alone and sharing a couple of whiskies, I brought it up again, pointing out that Jim was hardly the type of person to start a discussion on the merits of christianity with someone he knew took such an openly hostile stance. People turn to religion through loneliness, among other reasons, and maybe the people who shout loudest against it should bear this in mind.