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My day started at 0530 with a quick shave and packing my towel and swim shorts, and then a colleague polled up at 0630, we picked up another colleague and then headed down to Portland.  We arrived at 0800 and then waited for the others to arrive. We went and had a briefing about the day’s activities, and then were issued with kit: wetsuit, with hood; boots, fins [never called flippers!] belt with weights, face mask, gloves, BCD [buoyancy control device - a jacket with connection for the air tank, which inflates and deflates the vest which aids buoyancy whilst diving] and air tank [10 litres, which should last around 30 mins, depending how fast you breathe and how deep you dive.
 
We then were supposed to go to a local swimming pool for our practice and test exercises - but when we arrived, the pool claimed not to have the booking, and so we were turned away.  We were advised that we would try out in the shallow parts of the harbour, so we got kitted up, walked across the main road to Portland in our kit [great photo opportunity!] and then we were paired with a buddy and an instructor.  We went into the water, and then ducked underneath, taking our first gulp of compressed air, and then breathing out.  It didn’t seem too bad, but the water was mucky and we stirred up sand from the harbour floor, and we were then given tasks.  I went first, and had to remove my regulator [air supply] and continue to breathe out slowly, and then put the regulator back, blowing out the water with more compressed air.  Then we had to lift the face mask, and allow water to rise up to below our eyes, replace the mask, and blow out the water, using compressed air blown through our nose.  That was more difficult. 

We then left the harbour and walked back to the centre for lunch – the kit was heavy, very heavy, and of course whilst in the water seemed less so, but again out of the water it was really heavy.  After lunch, quiche and sandwiches, we were kitted up again, and informed we would head out to a wrecked dredger, just outside the harbour wall.  We headed out to a jetty where we loaded our kit and ourselves onto the RIB [rigid inflatable boat] and headed out like Special Forces heading into battle.
 
We moored up at the site, and then had to get kitted up in the boat – more difficult than on dry land.  Two colleagues who have dived before showed us how to roll backwards off the boat.  An instructor went next, and then it was my turn.  I was told to go, and did a perfect backwards summersault into the water.  I met up with the instructor and with hand signals indicated all was well, and repeated same to the dive master in the boat.  Every metre down in the water, you just have to “equalise” i.e. make sure the pressure in your ears “pops” like it does in an aircraft.  I found this difficult, and as I went deeper, the pain in my ears increased, but I could not release the pressure.  I indicated this to my instructor, and he tried to get me to do the exercises, but to no avail.  I headed slowly back to the surface, we chatted, and we tried again.
 
The same happened, and as I went deeper, we were aiming for 9 metres, so I knew it would be no good, but the instructor reached forward and took my head hood and opened it, which did the trick and I indicated an OK and we carried on down.  Reaching the seabed, I was asked to kneel down and ensure the buoyancy was OK, and I realised my face mask was filling up with water.  Beards are not always the best option! Snorting seawater is not good, and I tried the clearing exercise, with the instructor watching.  I tried again and again, but to no good, and with the water rising I knew that I had to go back to the surface and fail, or sort it.  A large gulp from the air tank, and then a large blow from my nose, with eyes shut, and the mask was dry and clear.  The instructor looked back at me with large eyes, and mimicked applause.  I was down, and breathing and stable.  All was well.  I met up with a colleague, and realised it was just us two.  We looked over the wreck carefully – but it is really just a lot of odd metal shapes and sea plant growth.  We then swam along the seabed looking at fish and crabs, lobster pots, and small items.  I realised that my perspective was all odd, things I tried to touch were further away in reality.  Our instructor at one point put a hand on my air tank, and one on my colleague’s and we towed him along to show that we could pilot ourselves.  It is all about trust, respect, and being able to relax – to breathe, to make decisions and carry them out.  Not easy, but when you are down there it is a different world – you are deaf, partially blind, totally reliant on the tank of air on your back, and the support of another human, a stranger.
 
After a while, we were joined by the second instructor, and my colleague went up with the first, and I then stayed with the second.  Coming up, even from 9 metres takes care, and we had to follow a line to the boat, stopping and letting air out of our BCD, which seems counter to what we expect – letting air out makes you rise?  In time I felt the surface of the water break, and we were a few metres from the boat, so we swam on our backs, and then had to get into the boat.  First you take off your weights, and then the BCD with air tank, and finally, leaving your fins on, you propel yourself up onto the side, bring your feet up, and someone grabs you and pulls you in.  Easy!  But hard! 

In the boat we swapped stories, enjoyed bars of chocolate and hot Ribena, to help cope with the taste of seawater and compressed air. We tidied the boat and headed back telling more stories and experiences.  We unpacked the boat at the jetty, took the kit back, changed and then enjoyed a mug of hot chocolate.  I realised that my ears were pretty odd, and although they are clearing, the pressure changes have affected them.  I was relieved to hear an experienced colleague tell me his are exactly the same.
 
We gave our thanks, received our certificates, and headed home.  I was tired – a long day from 0530, and the demands on my body, my mind, a drive of 100 miles, and as it says in the brochure, diving changes your life.  I want to go back, I want to experience all that again, prove to myself that I can face the challenges, and see more of God’s world and the fragile beauty that it contains.

I’m inspired to write a blog – it’s got nothing to do with the wonderful countryside I have travelled throughout this diocese over the last couple of weeks. Nor the lovely people I have met, nor the interesting churches and villages I have visited – some of which I have never visited before.

No it was a herd of pigs on the outskirts of Shrewton. It was a lovely hot afternoon and some of the pigs were wallowing in the muddy pools the farmer had left for them. But this was not good enough for one of their number – this pig had decided that it wanted its own bath and had got into a drinking trough and was lying full length in it. The trough was surrounded by about 6 other pigs all trying to drink but couldn’t because of their co-pig.

I managed to get a look at the face of the pig in the trough and it seemed as though that pig was smiling and enjoying to the full their bath. I have no idea how long it stayed in the trough as I had to get to a meeting and I was unable to take a photo to put with this text. But the image of that pig has stayed with me and I expect will always come into mind whenever I pass a field of pigs.

Last weekend I drove nearly 200 miles in our diocese, sometimes dropping into Bath and Wells but then I won’t talk about that.
My journeys began on Saturday, seeing me on the A303 at 0730 hrs driving west with very few other vehicles on the road. I turned off at Crewkerne and wended my way to Bradpole (near Bridport for those who have the same size geography knowledge as I do). The journey was lovely and the scenery was a delight to view. The workshop was good – but then I would say it as I was leading it – and the participants were nice people. In fact some were so nice that they also helped be clear up afterwards, so thank you very much.
I had to drop some things off at Church House so came back via Dorchester, another good journey with nice scenery.
Sunday and I was in the north of the diocese, visiting St Katherine’s Savernake Forest and St Nicholas East Grafton (near Marlborough) Again the journeys were good and the sun continued to shine making everything look really good.
Both congregations were warm in their welcome and I enjoyed the time I spent with them. Both church buildings are not what one might expect: St K’s has a haw-haw and both have a rounded end to their chancel which I think is called an apse and the acoustics are good. There were obviously more to them but I’m not an architect so don’t know the names of the other parts which were interesting to look at. Thank you to all those I met and I look forward to seeing you in June when the Ramsbury team comes your way.
It was over the weekend that I realised that envy comes in many forms and oh for a little MG or similar in which I could have enjoyed driving with the roof down – maybe one day Alan won’t be the only one with such a vehicle.

What can I say but what a delight to be outside with the sun shining, it makes things look so different. The blossoms are bright and cheerful, the green buds and shoots give a wonderful colour to fields and hedgerows and people smile at one another.
Over the last few days I have tried to get out each evening to walk around the village. The reason is that next year my sister and I want to start walking the cosatal path (not in one go but in small bits) and I need to get back to walking properly. The idea is to walk a mile in the village each day, getting quicker at that and then going further each time. At the moment I am averaging 2 miles an hour – not bad for someone who used to take over an hour to walk a mile.
During my walks I have met people I haven’t seen for sometime and, therefore, the time out has grown as I catch up on their news. I also use the time to think about things, I usually have my Ipod on and often the music sets the thoughts going.
Yesterday it was very helpful as I had walked half a mile to a meeting which had been cancelled but I had not been informed, well to be accurate the email didn’t arrive at my computer in time, and I wasn’t feeling positive about the convenor of the meeting. The walk back gave me the space to sort out my negative feelings and my the time I got back to my house I was pleased that I had spent the time out in the sunshine and that I had covered the distance in less time than usual!

A simple meal – or was it?  I needed to cook a relatively simple meal recently, a few prawns, some salmon fillets, and some vegetables – cooked indian style from a new cook book my family had treated me to!  Such is life!

I called into a cheaper high street supermarket, to purchase the goodies, and usually I always try and source local produce.  Time was tight, and so I did a trolley dash, collecting the fish, prawns, cauliflower, green beans and spices as I went.  I was amazed when  I came home and unpacked the food.  The prawns were from China, the salmon from Finland, the cauli from France, green beans from Israel, and the chillies from Zambia.  The goods may have been cheaper but at what cost to the carbon footprint and the Fair-trade world?  I’ll try and shop more wisely next time, and even so, the dishes were very nice and all gobbled up!

New Year’s Eve, and a reflective time for me to look back over the past year, and to look forward to what 2010, and the decade might offer us.  Many people I’ve chatted to over the holiday have said that they don’t really keep New Year – I suppose they mean throw a party or such occasion.  You can’t keep the Old Year, so you might as well mark its passing, and welcome the New.

I went for a walk today, but first a good cooked breakfast, and then a drive down the Ringwood Road from Salisbury to Burgate.  The MG was humming nicely, and I parked up by Burgate School, just on the Salisbury side of Fordingbridge.  I crossed the road and headed out towards Frankenbury, an Iron Age Hill Fort I’ve not visited before.  We’ve several around here – Clearbury, Figsbury, and of course Old Sarum.  Appropriately for a New Year walk, I had several bridges to cross, marking passing from the old to the new.  The first was an amazing suspension bridge crossing the Avon.  I took a photo, as I was so surprised to see a full suspension bridge in such a local, and rural location.  It sprung nicely as you walked across it!

Turning right at Folds Farm, you  descend into a gully and then rise up towards the Hill Fort.  It suddenly became very still and quiet, and offered superb views across the Avon water meadows.  It was suggested that the leader of the Romano-British, Natan-Leod camped here with his army around AD500, before he was defeated by Saxon invaders led by Cerdic on the banks of the Avon at nearby Charford.  It was easy to imagine the hundreds of men, quietly making their preparations here, with fresh water, good defences and visibility, and fresh meat walking around too.  I saw deer and cattle and horses a’plenty. Not to mention chickens, ducks and geese.

A little further on and I heard the sound of a high pitched motor cycle.  I don’t like the thought of bikes on footpaths – you can hear them, but usually they don’t see you as they travel so fast on the footpaths.  I cautiously stepped onto the grass verge, and was pleasantly surprised to see a very small child, sitting on a very small bike.  They carefully slowed down, and said good morning, before throttling up and away.  The dad was not far behind and I chatted to him about the bike, powered by a 50cc peewee engine, and can be governed to go at a maximum set speed.  Jealous? – well only a little bit!

I walked on up the Avon and came to Breamore, where there is a lovely mill set by two spans of bridges, the first an three arched brick affair, and the second a white painted girder bridge.  The water was passing through at a fair pace, and I wondered if the occupants of the mill easily adjusted to the sound of rushing water.  I noticed the natural defences of the divided river were augmented by two WW2 pill box defences, built either side of the mill’s building complex. 

I then walked back towards the A338, and crossed another bridge, this time a road bridge over the old Alderbury – Ringwood railway line.  The old Station Building is the only surviving one on this old line, and Hampshire County Council who own the site have restored the building beautifully.  Shame we can’t have access to it really, although there is talk about a footpath running along the old trackbed.  Back to the car at Burgate and the conclusion of a very pleasant stretch of the legs before the New Year celebrations this evening. 

Lots of bridges, lots of water flowing under them.  I hope that you will look back and be glad for all the good memories of 2009, and be able to let go of the less good memories.  May the New Year and all that it will offer us be full of opportunities and blessings for you, and may you cross your bridges with confidence and gratitude.

Over the last week I have driven many miles in our wonderful Wilthshire countryside and it has amazed me how many different forms of transport I have seen.

I have seen a carriage and four horses, with very smartly dressed driver and co; a carriage with a single horse, two lurgers and a Springer spaniel were running alongside; several cyclist on road racing, mountain and the average type of bike, some dressed in Lycra and others in jeans and tee shirts; several motorcyclists on bikes ranging from the most modern to those from the 60s including one with three wheels; many sports cars again from the early years of motoring to the modern; at least six gliders all on the same thermal; two hot air balloons and a few parachutists.

Alongside these I saw many people on foot either walking or running and the usual number of cars, vans, caravans etc often seen on our roads.

I did not see a boat and although I went under railway bridges on several occasions I did not see a train but did see play ones which is why I used the title.

They all seemed to be out because of the sun and fine conditions and it was a delight to see. It added interest to my journeys and, on several occasions when I was behind one of the slower modes of transport, allowed me to take in the view more easily.

Well, as two of the team now have a Blackberry and an iPhone I thought that I should look to having something which helps me to be paperless but I didn’t fancy a new phone as I don’t want to have emails arriving wherever I am, I like to be a little more in control. So I have opted for a notebook (or a net-book, or a very small laptop – depending on what you want to call it) and the last few days has seen the notebook and I get acquainted.

It is little but the keyboard is easy to use if only the operator would use her brain once in a while. I took it for a trial run to a Chapter meeting (I am the clerk) and took notes on it. That was easy but I hadn’t spent time to get to know all the different functions. Therefore, for some of the time I was fighting with a view that kept changing – going from 100% to 45% – all because I hadn’t realised that using the curso in a certain way caused the image to shrink or enalrge. Then of course, the keyboard is a little smaller and some of the keys have more than one function – I quickly learnt that the ‘end’ and ‘home’ keys were in a different position. However, it was a joy to use something that is so light and of course it meant less paper.

This morning the next learning curve happened as I wanted to be able to use the Internet and had to work out how to do ths. Now I know that there are those reading this who are thinking ‘What is her problem?’ My problem is that I have no real understanding of computers and had to phone my boradband supplier to ask for help. Yes it is so simple – I just had to connect with the modem (I haven’t gone wire free yet), switch the modem off and on. Lo and behold I was connected -so simple if you know how. My next step is to buy another ethernet cable (yes I sound as though I know!) so that I don’t have to keep unplugging the one for my PC. In the months to come I might even go wirefree.

Meanwhile, at meetings you might just see me with this little blue machine that is so easy to use now I have given it time. Mind you I can’t pretend that I am drinking a glass of liquid as Alan can with his iPhone!

This week I’ve been able to take some time to relax and enjoy a few days away from the hurley burly of Area life.  Last weekend I was chatting to an ordained colleague, and said that I was taking the weekend off.  What’s that, he replied, a weekend off?  I was rather embarrassed, and felt guilty – but then I thought, why should I be?  I was rather more concerned about my colleague – and will offer to cover a weekend for him at some early stage.  I presume it was some kind of joke – but it does reflect rather poorly that we joke about such things.  It feels like we need to stretch like a high jumper and clear the bar which enables us to get that much needed space.

This week has been a week full of walking and reading, and visiting place and people.  Having just celebrated Rogation and beating the bounds, I was thinking about boundaries as I meandered up the Woodford Valley on a walk this week.  Fences are useful things – keeping the things we want kept in, in; and keeping the things we want kept outside, outside.  Whilst up on the ridge above Durnford, I came across many pigs in their shelters, and noticed that the wire fence keeping them in was just one strand of wire [no doubt electrified] and only about six inches from the ground.  Surely I thought the larger [or long legged] pig would simply step over that?  Obviously not – otherwise they would be roaming up and down the Woodford Valley!  But if pigs could fly – then they would only need to glide over seven inches to escape.

Fences are useful things; helpful navigation aids for walkers, and when you get to a stile or kissing gate there is a sense of crossing from one part of the journey onto the next.  They mark safe places, and also mark areas we should not trespass into.  I also know to my personal cost – that you can’t actually sit on the fence – it hurts, and you have to come down on one side or the other.  In the forthcoming elections this next week, please think carefully about where you stand, and make your vote count.

This week I have been fortunate enough to visit the Quiet Garden at Great Chalfield near Melksham.  The Manor House is one of my favourite National Trust properties, because it is the sort of house you could move into.  Actually it is the home of a family, and the tours of the house are conducted in small parties, with a knowledgeable guide, and you can imagine how the house has been used as a home for generations.

The church of All Saints in the grounds is actually a parish church, not a chapel to the Manor, and each month, they invite a guest speaker to give an address.  The programme can be found on the parish website at www.stkatharinesholt.org.uk 

I arrived to find the church packed with people, many of whom are regulars, from all denominations, and probably none too.  The programme for the day last from 0930 – 1600, and I arrived in time to share a picnic lunch, which had been thoughtfully provided for me.  I led a short act of worship, in which I gave a meditation.  I’ve attached it to this blog.  After the service, which only lasts about 30 mins, I sat quietly  and found that people stayed to pray quietly, or went for a walk in the garden, or came for a chat with me.  I moved on after a while, and found a welcome sense of peace and quiet, but also a profound sense of being ministered to by the host team.

Try it and see for yourself, it is a part of the diocese that is worth travelling to, and I for one will return to soak up the stillness take time to be close to God.

Meditation for Quiet Garden—Great Chalfield—May 09

Genesis 1:29-31   Matthew 6:25-33

Do not worry.  What a wonderful thought to take to our hearts and then just get on with life!  Do not worry.  Matthew’s gospel encourages us, and that we do not have to worry about the basics of life, food and clothing.  Consider the birds of the air—consider the lilies of the field.  They do not worry.  No they don’t I’m sure, but is that how it feels to you? 

God as the divine gardener seems to have it all sorted.  Genesis reminds us that everything is in order, and there is nothing to worry about.  But have you met a gardener yet, who does not worry?  It seems to me that the very fact that we have a garden to care for is quite a worry in itself!  The weather, planting at the right time, and in the right place, and with the right kind of plant.  When to prune, what product to use to keep the weeds in check, where do we find the time to mow the lawns and trim the edges.  Hmm!  Do not worry—not quite the calm coolness which the gardener seems to exude.

We have a garden where I live in Bemerton.  It is a beautiful garden, where the River Nadder meanders quietly at the southern boundary, and lawns and woods, and flower borders make for a space and place that is quite wonderful for rest and relaxation.  It is even more special when you know that the seventeenth century priest and post, George Herbert used to walk there, and no doubt wrote his poetry and some sermons too I shouldn’t wonder.

And so I wander in the same garden, slowly promenading, looking at the same trees, and the same clear river, with the same trout plucking flies from the surface of the water.  And I consider.  Did George Herbert have the same problem with daisies?  Did he ask the gardener to trim back the yews which plunge the garden into darkness?  Did Mrs Herbert, who is always known as Jane Danvers, rather than Jane Herbert, have to ask George more than once to collect up the fallen branches after a windy day?  I don’t know—but those are the concerns of the present day occupier of the garden at Lower Bemerton.

Please don’t think I’m whingeing—it is a wonderful privilege and a great part of my ministry to care for the garden—although you will understand that my wife is the one who actually does all the work.  Herbert wrote a poem called “The Flower”, where he reminds us that spring brings that new season of green hope, and that we deserve nothing, but receive everything, as the flowers of spring once again rise from the ground, as Christ rose from the tomb.  He says that God is as loyal and consistent as each season of spring, and “who could have thought my shrivelled heart could have recovered greenness?”  God offers us all, whether weed or prize bloom, the same opportunity for growth and joy of living in his garden, his paradise. 

As with all plants, I need to be aware of the care and nurture, not just from others, but for myself as well.  This year, the

Diocese of Salisbury is asking our clergy and lay people to think much more about our own well-being.  Finding a good balance to the various demands in our daily lives is integral to being a person fully alive.  We can give glory to God when we are fit and well, and able to be available to do what God will ask of us.

This year, my wife and I have agreed to ask a gardening contractor to come and sort the weeds on the lawn for us.  They came last week.  Two men, dressed like storm troopers from a Star Wars epic, just spent an hour or two spraying and scattering, and then said, “Leave it for three days”. 

Everything has grown like crazy—the weeds have grown so much that they do not seem as if they will survive, they have outgrown their potential and died.  They are burned out I guess.  How true is that in our own lives—we push and push and eventually we will burn out too.  I have to say though—the rest of the lawn is looking great!  We too need to find a way of treating ourselves so that we can grow and thrive and flourish, and at the same time keep down those weeds in our own lives, those temptations, and distractions that make life less than full.

“These are thy wonders, Lord of power, killing and quickening, bringing down to hell, and up to heaven in an hour; making a chime of a passing bell.”

To spend time in a garden, quietly reflecting on our own lives, and making decisions about what we will change and what we will learn to live with, is not a luxury, but a God-given opportunity.  “And now in age, I bud again, after so many deaths I live and write; I once more smell the dew and rain, and relish versing.” 

Take time out, and take notice of what is around in our lives and in our gardens, and as Jesus says, Do not worry.  God is

wanting to take care, and if we can let go, and let him do that for us, then we will find that sense of belonging that Herbert tells us when he says: “These are thy wonders, Lord of Love, t make us see we are but flowers that glide; which when we once can find and prove, thou hast a garden for us where to bide.”