Hamsters and Hagelslag

(just to clarify, there were no hamsters, they are for rhetorical effect only)

Better late than never, so a mere month since my visit to Amsterdam, I finally find a moment to write about it. I flew out with Easyjet (terrible, I know, but the government should reinstate student grants if they want us to travel by train) and my first experience of the Netherlands this time round was what felt like a 5km walk through Schipol airport. However, everything in the Netherlands works the way it ought to (with the exception of the ticket machines that, like in France, accept coins or cards but no notes. How silly), and so I found that it was very simple to buy a ticket, walk to the platform, board the train, and be moving in 30 seconds, in the right direction. Perfect. I was amused to discover that what appeared to be the only other passenger in my carriage decided to make a remark to me in Dutch (it was all Dutch to me…) but it didn't seem to disturb him that I just smiled back and said nothing! Ten minutes later I miraculously succeeded in meeting Iain at centraal station, at which point all was no longer Dutch. Phew!
A short walk via China Town brought us to the grand abode that is the Mission House. Therein dwell many (I think there are 8 but they always seem to be more) lovely volunteers who spend their days helping the disadvantaged of Hamsterland, as I like to call it. When I arrived they were drinking port and playing Halli-Galli while listening to the "top 2000" on the radio…it turned out that this was a pretty typical picture of what life in the Mission House is like! Over the days that I lived there I was fully accepted into their little community and enjoyed the amusement of shifting the table footie set, cooking for half an army, eating many oliebolle, and seeing a delivery of a good half ton of bread to their kitchen, not to mention the New Year's Celebrations!
December 31st took us to Utrecht, where we met up with Elise, a fellow EEA3-steward of mine, and then went to find the Miffy museum only to remember that it was Monday, and to get scared off by some rather dramatic fireworks that were emanating from the square next door. However, the little walk was not in vain, beacuse we found a street called A B C…
…I still haven't found XYZ street though…

Back in Amsterdam, we threw ourselves into preparations for the big new year's eve party, which proved an immense load of fun, populated by dutch, french, british, germans, hungarians…you see, everyone who was anyone was at the Mission House Party (well, okay, not quite *everyone*). At about 11 we made a move towards the Dam Square, where we joined 25000 people. It was a bit of a squash, to say the least. However, armed with elbows and champagne bottles we managed to squeeze ourselves a spot from which to view the explosion of festivities at midnight, as well as all the various random fireworks going off all over the place (this is the only night the Dutch are allowed fireworks, and they are allowed, apparently, to do what they like with them). Afterwards the party continued for a good while, and with much fun had by all, despite our somewhat dubious attempts to relieve Zoe's thumb from huge amounts of pain (she'd shut it in a door…).
Sleep wasn't a big feature of that night, but nevertheless, very early (yes, it was early) the next morning I awoke to Iain's jolly announcement that in 15 minutes we were leaving to go to the sea. "Yes, yes…"I reply, then "Eh? 15 minutes?!" Sure enough we went to the sea, the trains weren't working quite as well so it took us an unpleasant 2 hours to reach Den Haag (which, I was reliably informed later by our dutch companions, means "By the Hedge". Silly name for a capital city!). Still, we made it to the beach just in time for Kim and Iain to take part in the Dutch people's ritual dip in the north sea event, and partake in some free pea soup. They joined 9,998 others. Mad mad people. Still, they certainly didn't have a hangover any more after that!
The afternoon was spent wandering around the Hague with Anna-Meta, Marjolein, Kim and Iain, where we decided to write to the Queen and ask if we could come and live in her palace for a while. There wasn't much to do, although we did (luckily) find a nice café that was open for lunch. Back in Amsterdam, Iain and I spent a day being tourists, and visiting the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum and wandering around the lovely streets of Amsterdam. Lovely, if rather chilly for the picnic lunch!

A great trip! I even learnt the odd word of Dutch…

Let's get this clear

It never ceases to amaze my family (certain members of whom are Kingsmen) just how many people misunderstand the nature of the King's Christmas Eve carol service, partly through misinformation (or lack of information) from the media. The most common misconception is that the Television Service entitled "Carols from King's" is the same as the service one can hear if one tunes into Radio 4 at 3pm on Xmas Eve, which it is NOT.

Today, I met an alternative misconception, when someone referred me to this article, saying that it was telling lies because it implied that the service was broadcast live. Well, I had a look, and this article tells no lies because it refers only to the Nine Lessons and Carols, NOT to the TV version. So let's explain:

There are TWO carol services that take place in King's Chapel and are available over the Christmas Weekend via various media. The two services are NOT re-runs of each other, they are *different*.

1. The original service, begun in 1918 (the history of which can be read on the King's College Website), is known as the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. It is, every year, sung at 3pm on December 24th, to a congregation made up partly of members of King's College, and partly residents of Cambridge City, who queue up for the privilege of attending this service. It is broadcast LIVE by the BBC (on radio 4 and the world service) and is then re-broadcast on Christmas Day by radio 3. It consists of the traditional NINE Christmas bible readings, interspersed by a selection of Choral carols (different every year) and the congregational favourites (which remain much the same from year to year, though not always identical). It is also for this service that the soloist for the first carol is chosen only a few seconds before the chapel goes live to the world.

2. The "other" service is known under the label "Carols from King's" or other pseudonyms. It is recorded in advance (usually around the beginning of December) and is broadcast on television over the Christmas weekend. This is not the same as the radio service at all: not only is it recorded on a different day with a different, invited congregation (and never broadcast live), but it is also a different structure of service, and the selection of choral carols at this service is often (if not always) somewhat different to the Christmas Eve selection.

So, if you watch the TV one as well as listening to radio 4, you will get double the dose of King's. How lovely! But if you are to choose only one, then do make it the live one (on the radio). Ever so much more exciting. Ever so much more REAL.

Merry Christmas…everyone

If you haven't had a Christmas card from me this year it is (probably ;-) ) not because I didn't want to send you one…rather that the sending didn't quite happen. So instead I shall assume that you are all reading my blog, and will take this opportunity to wish you ALL a very happy Christmas!

I come from hevin heich to tell
The best nowells that e'er befell.
To you thir thythings trew I bring
And I will of them say and sing.

This day to you is born ane child
Of Marie meik and Virgin mild.
That blissit bairn bening and kind
Sall you rejoyce baith hart and mind.

Lat us rejoyis and be blyth
And with the Hyrdis go full swyth
And see what God of his grace hes done
Throu Christ to bring us to his throne.

My saull and life stand up and see
What lyis in ane cribbe of tree.
What Babe is that, sa gude and fair?
It is Christ, God's Son and Air.

O my deir hart, yung Jesus sweit,
Prepair thy creddill in my spreit!
And I sall rock thee in my hart
And never mair fra thee depart.

Bot I sall praise thee evermoir
With sangis sweit unto thy gloir.
The kneis of my hart sall I bow
And sing that rycht Balulalow.

16th century Scottish

Medieval jews and queer theory

The reason why I am somewhat incommunicado and busy this vacation is that I am busy working on a rather bizarre and quite wacky dissertation. I shall tell you more when it is finished!

Chez moi

Finally…I returned to Lyon. And it felt like going home! As the plane (yes, sorry, when I have a salary I will take the train…) came in to land, it was like I'd not been home for months and finally this was it. Funny, really, since it is a foreign country and my friends and flatmates from last year (not to mention the flat itself) have largely moved on. That aside, Claire and I had a wonderful few days enjoying this year's Fête des Lumières, wonderfully hosted by Alexia and Iole, and with a scrumptious dinner care of mathieu keegan and greg…we also saw Alexia's latest play, and met up with several other friends. It was lovely. That is the main point. There came a moment, sometime, when Claire said to me, Where is your home, really? (we were talking, predictably, about Oxford at the time) and I had to admit, I don't really know any more. Oxford is–and isn't; Cambridge is–but which Cambridge more? –and now Lyon? How many homes can one have? I remember once having a conversation with Pipsi, well a "discussion" because she was holding out the view that unless one had really "lived" in Oxford (by which she really meant grown up there) then Oxford could never by your home; I disagreed and said that once you'd been there three or four years as a student it would probably be just as much your home. But maybe there's only ever one home that can make you homesick, and is that a house-home, a town-home or a people-home, I wonder?

An ode to the river Cam

If you had seen me on saturday of 8th week you would have observed me wearing a t-shirt that read:

Selwyn 1st ladies' novice VIII 2007
"Like a first boat, but in miniature"

Yes, it's true…I finally "succumbed," as they say, and rose to the challenge that had been tempting me since second year, of combining being a linguist and being a choral scholar with being a 'boatie', so this term I noviced, while seeing how long it took people to notice (quite a while, for those I didn't tell!). Yes, it made life rather more hectic than I'd have liked at times, but I fit it in, and it was LOTS of fun. NW1 were an excellent crew and we did really well, coming 8th in clare sprints and 9th overall in Fairbairns at the end of term.
I have finally understood why so many people give up their sleep time in order to freeze in a small contraption on the Cam…of course, non-rowers still think I am insane and have just caught the rowing bug…well, if that's what it is, I think I'll hold onto the bug for a bit longer thanks :)

On being a fourth year…

Rather unsurprisingly, it has been a whole Cambridge term since I last wrote here (only two more to go!). It's been a long, busy one–but also one of the most fun. Where to begin? My grown-up fourth yearness might have to spill over into more than one post I think!
Work wise, term has been relentless, starting with the panic that accompanied the part II oral exam followed reasonably closely by the project deadline, all muddled up with a good dose of the start of new courses. It settled into that lovely 2 or 3 essays a week rhythm, where it sat for the rest of term fully ensuring I feel less ready than I might to write my dissertation over this vacation (which must be done). That said, all papers and suchlike are proving interesting and I seem to understand most of the complex psychoanalytical theory that now accompanies them so all well so far. Choir has been going well…if a little dull at times (particularly the last couple of days learning a whole load of new music for a recording after xmas…).We're losing our dean of chapel now and getting a retired bishop to replace him for the next two terms, which will be superb. Meanwhile this last term I've been serving in Trinity chapel on Sunday mornings a few times, it's been nice to get back into serving a bit and getting out of the Selwyn bubble a bit more than usual (plus, they do sing quite well there…;-) ).
Of course the most remarkable thing about this term has been going back to university life after so long "outside the bubble". At first it seemed very strange indeed, we linguists were keen to get back into doing something a little more intellectual, after quite a decent break from the pressures of tripos…but we weren't quite so sure about the whole collegiate bubble. Coming back early to face exams wasn't a great way of breaking us into it, and it was daunting seeing the number of unfamiliar faces around college-really did feel like we shouldn't be there any more! Yet once we'd got into the fourth year mould, things got off to a really much better start. I went and pretended to be a fresher (rather successfully!)for the usual first night in the bar…and managed to meet quite a lot of second and third years, which was great! Also met lots of linguists in that first week, and one of them very aptly observed much later in term that the fourth year linguists (or the "F" crew as we are sometimes known now) have this wonderful laid back "je ne sais quoi" aura about us, and it really is quite true: despite having a lot of work, we seem to manage to care an awful lot less about it–no, that's not fair– to *stress* an awful lot less about it, than we did in second year. It's work we have to do, and we do it…and then we get on with life as best we can. We've had some lovely girly friday evenings with a bottle of wine, and although we've also been working hard, we've had time to get to know this year's college community a bit, in our new role as great-grandmothers. It's been tiring, it's been hard work, it's felt very very strange at times–but it's been a very good term, and culminated in what I think was the best snowball of my selwyn career, so I am enjoying fourth year. Let's see what the rest of it brings along…
I'm off to Lyon on Saturday morning to experience this year's fete des lumieres, and see some friends and colleagues from last year. I can't wait! More updates will follow I'm sure…

Diaries of an Ecumenical Steward #3

One day in Sibiu, Alex and I had ten minutes spare (a rare thing) and we were in Piata Mare, so we decided to go to the the catholic church. Inside, some kind of modern band/choir were singing. Alex remarked on how it didn't feel like a church; he was right, it really didn't. It would have been easy to think we'd come to some kind of teenagers' party, if only there hadn't been so much marble and gold paint around. So we ended up having a discussion about what is and isn't appropriate in church, what kinds of music our different traditions used in worship, and so forth…as I say, we only had ten minutes so that's as far as it went for the time being.

A week or two on, I was amidst preparing for my oral exam (on Secularism in France/EU) and had just come across an article entitled "Redonner du peps à l'Eglise Catholique" about rejuvenating the catholic church in Brazil, when I was chatting to Razvan online and we happened to get onto a discussion of a similar topic. Razvan is studying orthodox theology and was very much in agreement with me on most of this modernization stuff (which, incidentally, wasn't ALL negative, only in part). At some point in the conversation came "after all, church is not a party" and then Razvan came up with this gem:

"Church is a big party for your soul, because your soul are meeting with God and they have an ecumenical party."

In my ignatian cell group years back we used to like playing with plurals ("where were God?"), but it's not the creative use of plural in this that makes it utter genius: it's simply the most original way of describing what it's all about that I've heard in a long while. And it still doesn't make church a party in the way that the teenage rock band might want it to be.

I've put it on my wall, so that I read it every day…I think it's worth at least a week's worth of 1-minute reflections.
As it happens, the dean of my college is having an "ecumenical party" for the freshers this week. I am intrigued as to what exactly this will mean, and so may go along for a while. Somehow, I suspect that although it may be fun it won't be half as rewarding as the ecumenical party our souls will be having next time we're in church.
I also suspect it won't be half as actively ecumenical as its name might imply. Let's see.

Maybe sometimes we are tempted to forget how much fun church can be just because it is church. And while we're remembering, we might also want to pray for Razvan's vocation to spread that message.

"Church is a big party for your soul, because your soul are meeting with God and they have an ecumenical party."

Diaries of an Ecumenical Steward #2

Diaries #1 is now updated with the full version of the report I wrote for my parish magazine, and it's more than three weeks since we returned from Sibiu, even though it still feels like yesterday and I'm sure I'm not the only one who wonders from time to time why we can't just drop all this termtime faff and get back to stewarding! Certainly to judge by the messages coming through from my fellow steward friends, there is a strong feeling that we don't want to let go of what we learned and built up in Sibiu. So I think it's about time for some more 'everyday' memories from EEA3. Cut with the churchy speak, it's time for the postcard chat!
My journey began with meeting Yee and Gordon at Heathrow–and proceeding to waste an hour or so on the other side of security, during which we contemplated the various things on offer (Harrod's Caviar or some Swarovski, anyone?) before boarding our BA flight to Bucharest. We'd chosen seats (online) with extra legroom, so we had a very comfy flight indeed and I was excited to discover that Romania was really quite a lot further away than I'd imagined. A few hours later, we were in Bucharest airport contemplating finding a decent, non rip-off taxi, in strange currency and with a significant language barrier. We succeeded, thanks to a little help from Gordon's travelguide, and ended up at the hostel which had changed its name and lost our booking but (thankfully) had a room for us. Bucharest didn't top my "fab cities" list. We didn't have time to see it all, by any means, but what we did see was still very much something that could be, or maybe had been, lovely–but wasn't. That said, it was great to take a guided tour of the parliament building (second largest in the world)–incredible. And the transport was very cheap and worked. At 3.30, thanks to Gordon's superb organization via a travel agent, we boarded a train bound for Sibiu. Five hours later (having used almost all my pocket tissues–the first of many loos without paper!) we alighted to find a very smiley bunch of people clad in yellow "volunteer" scarves and waving a colourful "EEA3" flag–a great relief! They were our first Romanian buddies, and we were very grateful indeed for their help in getting us to our hostel. Once there, we installed ourselves in our rooms and started to get to know people–unfortunately we'd missed the first 'get to know each other' session by arriving just too late, but soon people began to arrive back from that. Apart from Stefano, who had arrived on the train with us, the first friends we made that first night were three Romanian students, Alex, Alex and Razvan, who were living at the end of the corridor and who immediately introduced themselves and even began to teach me a bit of Romanian!
Days 1-3 of the Stewards' programme were largely spent at the Orthodox Theological Faculty, which was our base. 20 minutes walk to breakfast from the hostel became much more enjoyable once we arranged little meetings at the front door. The faculty was, as it happens (certainly did in much of Sibiu this year), a building site–they got it just about presentable by the time the main delegations arrived, but not for us!–and we were all desperate to know what our tasks would be for the main assembly, but all of this was put aside while we enjoyed getting to know one another, shared 'hopes and fears' about the week, prayed together, sang together, drank coffee together, ate ice cream together, laughed about never properly having appreciated toilet paper before, and admired a market of traditional pottery in Sibiu's main square. Our evenings were spent "culturally" telling each other about food, drink and customs from our various countries. Before long we'd bonded as one big family and could hardly imagine that this routine was going to get shaken up by the arrival of the "others".
Yet shaken up it was indeed, as Wednesday saw us all divided into different teams posted around the town to register delegates arriving for the assembly. In my role as Head Steward for the VIP team, I was coordinating a team of six other stewards working to register the most "important" delegates at their hotel. Sound simple? Sadly not quite so–the hotel was still being decorated on wednesday morning, the "office" from which the VIP section was being run was still without phone or working printer, and the databases available to us never had the right lists with the right names in the right place at the right time. Despite these hurdles, we got through the day and even made friends with a few of the arriving VIPs. That was the toughest day but the next was to bring us plenty of fresh challenges as the conference got underway. We needed to be in three places at once, registering those not yet kitted out with badges, seating the others in the tent, and manning the office and vVIP lounge. Part of the stress of that day was simply not knowing where we'd be most needed at any given moment, so needing to run back and forth from tent to hotel–and not being allowed through the quick entrance because the president of Romania was there. Sigh. Part was just having to force the press away from the main stage. Sigh. Still, amongst all of this was a sense of really helping–no joke, the thing could never have happened without our team–far better that way than being bored! The remaining days of the conference were somewhat less stressful and we had more time to listen to the speakers and discussions, to chat to each other, even to laugh at our job ("list" was enough to give the secretary and I the giggles). It was still cold and wet at times, and very tiring, but not as daunting as it had been. Meals, when we had time for them, were a chance to exchange experiences with stewards from other teams, and to have intellectual discussions. Breaktimes sometimes meant wandering through the streets with another steward discovering all sorts of things we'd never have imagined about each other. In the evenings, after our "home groups" we relaxed together at the Youth Café or back at our hostel, had a little 'stewards' party' and attended a Taizé service. The end came far too quickly: after celebration of the birth of the virgin and two final Assembly Plenaries, the conference cumulated in a lovely celebration of light in the main square, that was televised live around Europe and in which many of us were able to participate (I read some bible verses in English, for example). No sooner was that over, than it was the big Goodbye for those of us who were (for some reason known only to…no one) leaving at crack of dawn the next day. And thus the assembly was over and we would take home with us all of these memories and far, far more…a wonderful feeling of having made great friends across the continent, our special songs in our heads and a warm feeling in our hearts like a sunny ray of the light of Christ. We were sad to leave Sibiu, our friends, our jobs, but determined already that we would indeed meet again.

After a week in bonnie Loch Lomond…

Bog bog rock bog stream stream bog bog…eek!

Next time I go walking I shall take a dictophone to record the soundtrack of the day. In its absence, I'm afraid you will miss out on the eccentric bursts of song, stupid jokes and other jollities that filled our days on the munros. But the above gives a rough idea of how those days panned out. In four days we climbed six munros, got cold, got wet, almost got sunburnt, fell over, went up gradients as steep as 1:1, mended our tent with a bin liner, and discovered that tesco caramel wafers aren't nearly as good as Tunnock's. We also played a lot of racing demon. But most of all, we will remember the bog :)

Diaries of an Ecumenical Steward #1

Some of you may have noticed that a week or so ago, a new section of links appeared on my blog. They direct you to various sites (appropriately, not only in English) about the third European Ecumenical Assembly, or EEA3, in Sibiu, Romania. I myself was privileged enough to attend this assembly as a steward, one of over 100 like-minded individuals from over 30 nationalities: we had at least 26 native languages between us and yet over the ten days that we were there, both prior to and during the conference itself, became one family. This was, and I think I can safely speak for most of the stewards here, the time of our lives. It wasn't all easy: more of that to come, but it was a wonderful experience and we are bursting to tell all about it to anyone who cares to listen.
This will happen in instalments as I am amidst packing to return to university and can't possibly write all about it in one go…but to begin with, I leave you with the report I've prepared so far, and with a link to my own photos of the event.

What can 2500 Christians from over 30 nations of Europe do about ecumenism in just four days?

This is what the stewards were wondering as they gathered in Sibiu, Romania on August 31st. 120 young people sent by Christian youth organisations across Europe, we had come to prepare for the arrival of the delegates to the third European Ecumenical Assembly on Sept 4th, and to ensure that the assembly ran smoothly. Five of us had come from the UK; two of us were Anglicans.

Of course, the problem with ecumenical events is that only those interested in ecumenism go, and not those who would rather not make friends with the other churches, or those who are too tied up in the worries or divisions of their own church. So if it seems like you’re achieving something while you are there, that soon seems a very small something. The problem with ecumenism itself, on the other hand, is that no-one dares say anything that might offend the others, and so no one says what they need to say and you can have as much dialogue, dialogue, dialogue as you like, without achieving anything in a real sense.

That is why, once every ten years, 2500 Christians gather to make progress on Ecumenism in Europe. Aided by the stewards, they spend four days discussing the “Big Topics”. This time, the title was “The Light of Christ Shines upon All”, and discussions were on Unity, Spirituality, Witness, Europe, Religions, Migration, Creation, Justice and Peace. Many people, amongst them politicians, patriarchs and bishops contributed to these, seeking to build on the outcomes of the previous assemblies in Basel (89) and Graz (97). Many others were there simply to witness this discussion and take something new and progressive home with them. The final message, together with the separate youth delegates’ statement, can be read online at www.eea3.org, and from that it might look like EEA3 didn’t achieve an awful lot. But what it did achieve was to re-open the door to ecumenical action around Europe, and to make us all aware of just how much we have ignored ecumenism recently, and just how much we need to wake up and do something.

At the end of the Assembly, the stewards who had come together from all denominations, nationalities and backgrounds, who had worked in offices, in the main tent where plenary sessions were held, in the Press office, the IT team, or the VIPs’ hotel, were one big tired family. Amidst renovation work, in the middle of the beautiful Sibiu, this year’s Capital of Culture, we had made friendships we will never lose, served God through one another and reflected for ourselves on the Assembly’s goals.
We reported back, in song, image and words, telling of our experience prior to and during the EEA3, and our message to the delegates ended like this:

We didn’t come here to say what has been said before.
The light of Christ shines upon all…but are WE willing to share it?

The Venerable Colin Williams told us all on our first day together that the important stuff of EEA3 would not happen in the plenaries; it would happen in those moments when we would talk to each other on a more informal level. This could not have been more true: wonderful as it was to attend a joint Anglican and Old Catholic mass in a Lutheran cathedral on the feast of the birth of the Virgin, the experiences that made EEA3 particularly special and memorable included having coffee with S.B. Gregorius III of Antioch, eating lunch with a Romanian bishop, discussing Apostolic succession with another steward from Romania, and getting to know an orthodox priest from Bosnia as I accompanied him to the main office on registration day. For some people I spoke to, I was the first Anglican, or even the first English person they had ever really talked to.
Inspired by this and by the example of H.E. Metropolitan Gennadios of Sassima, who started as a steward himself, we have each set out on our own ecumenical pathways. This is what being a steward is about: it is not just about working hard and going unnoticed, but about building bridges between ordinary Christians. We’ve each returned to our own churches and communities now, and the future will send us in many directions, but we know that amongst us many will go on to further work in Christian communities around Europe, and we hope that the friendships we have made will continue to be examples of those bridges.
Our facilitators made a series of t-shirts over the week. Amongst them, one read “St. Benedict was a steward. Later, a whole order followed him.” another, “H.E. Metropolitan Gennadios started as a steward” and a third advertised Mary and Martha’s own roles as stewards. I leave you with a copy of the assembly’s official recommendations in the hope that you too might become stewards in helping to build on these within your own communities.
May the light of Christ shine within us all, and until we meet again may God hold us in the palm of his hand.

RECOMMENDATIONS of the EEA3:

We recommend renewing our mission as individual believers and as Churches to proclaim Christ as the Light and the Saviour of the world;

We recommend continuing the discussion on mutual recognition of baptism, being aware that the question is deeply linked to an understanding of Eucharist, ministry and ecclesiology in general;

We recommend finding ways of experiencing the activities which can unite us: prayer for each other and for unity, ecumenical pilgrimages, theological formation ….

We recommend the full participation of the whole people of God and, at this Assembly in particular, note the appeal of young people, the elderly, ethnic minorities, and disabled people.

We recommend that our Churches should recognise that Christian immigrants are not just the recipients of religious care but that they can play a full and active role in the life of the Church and of society; offer better pastoral care for migrants, asylum seekers and refugees; and promote the rights of ethnic minorities in Europe, particularly the Roma people.

We recommend developing the "Charta Oecumenica" as a stimulating guideline for our ecumenical journey in Europe.

We urge all European Christians to give strong support to the Millennium Development Goals of the United Nations as an urgent practical step toward the alleviation of poverty.

We recommend that a consultative process, addressing European responsibility for ecological justice, facing the threat of climate change; European responsibility for the just shaping of globalisation; the rights of Roma people and other European ethnic minorities, be initiated by CCEE and CEC.

We recommend backing initiatives for debt cancellation and the promotion of fair trade.

We recommend that the period from the 1st September to the 4th October be dedicated to prayer for the protection of Creation and the promotion of sustainable lifestyles that reverse our contribution to climate change.

On becoming a sister-in-law

So my sister is now Mrs Elizabeth Carr, which is most exciting indeed and (I think) very chic. And I have inherited a brother. Well, a brother-in-law, to be precise. He didn't look too impressed when I reminded him of this…but I think he was joking, seeing as apparently he is in fact no longer scared of me!
I am also now the only Miss Osborne left in my family, which makes me feel very grown up but rather babyish at the same time. And I'm told I could now become an aunty, even though I don't know how to knit booties. All these weird and wonderful things that happen when one becomes a sister-in-law. I think it will be an exciting new era in which I go to dinner at my sister's, or indeed invite them to mine (supposing such a place existed). Excellent, says I.

The Big Weekend

One reason why I've not been writing a lot here recently is that I've mostly been working, which isn't very exciting, and away in Edinburgh for a weekend, which was somewhat more exciting. Another is that I've been getting ready for the Big Weekend of my sister Elizabeth's wedding, which is now over. We'd been gearing up to it for two years, and everything was planned out carefully so that it would be the perfect day. My job was to run around doing all the little jobs that no one else had time to do, and then to be an usher, followed by singing in the choir, moving flowers from place to place, and generally being on hand to do whatever needed doing. It was hard work, but definitely worth it for the great day that we all had, not least the happy couple of course, but everyone else involved as well: excellent sunny weather, scrumptious food and some lively ceilidh dancing, as well as the most beautiful cake I have ever seen. Really. And lots of lovely people many of whom I hadn't seen for far too long. What more could anyone want! A photo link will appear in due course…

Snail Slalom (or, is this really summer?)

I came back from Germany expecting the heat wave that had found us in Heidelberg (35 degrees) to have found England too…but alas, a very large bucket of water appeared to have been thrown at the UK and it wasn't what we'd usually expect of "summer" at all. I was cycling to tesco one day and there were so many snails on the cycle path that it was nearly impossible not to run them over! Definitely not July. It's been a little better recently but I'm still crossing my fingers for the wedding on Saturday…!

Beer, Schnitzel and many German churches

No sooner had I returned from France than I plunged myself back into the Cambridge bubble with a week of rehearsals and concerts with selwyn choir, and then off we flew to Germany for ten days. With new people and new places (I had never been to Germany before) this was an altogether original experience, and turned out, as well as being fun, mostly nice weather, pretty, etc, to be the most easy-going choir tour yet! Not better than new zealand, mind you, which was on another plane entirely…but certainly a thoroughly enjoyable tour!
We visited Erfurt first, regional capital of Thuringia, dominated by the Dom (haha) and a second large church, both on a (mostly man-made I think) hill above the marketplace, and full of bridges, one of which is built up like a road such that you could walk across without realising it was a bridge at all! A nice town, but not particularly exciting, though they did have Eraclea hot chocolate, and Bratwürst in abundance.
While based there also sang in Weimar (in a church Bach himself had played in!!), very pretty town that felt just a little bit fake…like a theme park…probably because we bombed it beyond recognition (oops). Next up was Jena, Caroline's Year Abroad Haven. Unfortunately I wasn't feeling well enough that day to go on the Caroline Tour (I had a few hours of Helen's bug), but what I saw seemed nice and the church was big and lovely and full of people, most of whom seemed to be there for Caroline and some of the kids even sat in the front row with "Caroline, you are the best!" banners. Very, very cute. Highlights of the day were the Kartoffelhaus for dinner (every sort of potato you can imagine…and more!) and a lovely pub garden after the concert (mmm Weißbier!). Last in the little thuringian quartet was Gera, exciting church but otherwise unremarkable town.
After Erfurt, we moved on to Würtzburg where for the first time we had a day without a concert. This beautiful Bavarian town provided plenty of cultural sightseeing opportunities, and almost some bike hire (Millie and I were puzzled that the hire place appeared never to be open!). We took a guided tour of the Residenz, ate plenty of ice cream, walked up to the Schloss, and drank plenty of beer in a little courtyard tucked away at the back of the Bierkeller, before ceilidh-dancing on the bridge in the dark. A charming little town that was the first German location to put on my "liveable" list. Maybe Kirsti can find me a job there…
Next up was another wonderful town called Bamberg. The youth hostel turned out to be a couple of miles out of town, in a place called Bug. As we drove up to it, we passed a good three places offering mini-golf, and lots of people out in pedalos. Both activities were later indulged in, tremendous fun (and a hilarious argument between Ben and the Evil Pedalo Man). Bamberg itself, which we had several days to explore, was definitely the highlight of the tour, a stunningly beautiful town with some nice eating places and a town festival going on in the streets. Another one to add to my list…
On Sunday, we went to Bayreuth to sing a service in the Stadtkirche in the morning. This is Wagner's birthplace but, being a Sunday, most things were fairly shut. It was like an "ideal village" when we arrived: no litter, no cars, no people…the church was lovely, but undergoing repairs throughout, so the congregation were squished into the back corner and we were above in the organ loft! Some excellent preludes from the organist and computerised church bells (the real things would have made the scaffolding fall down…) were the order of the day. Afterwards we explored the town a bit, and drove past Wagner's opera house before heading back to Bamberg.
Last, but not least of course, came Heidelberg. Here we sang two concerts, the second of which was our last of tour, and unfortunately had the smallest audience (ironic given it was in the University church of our twin town!). That aside, it was the best concert of the tour by far, and so our holiday (and for several, their choir career with Selwyn) ended on a very good note. Heidelberg was nice, if a bit touristy, and very one-street-town. Laura was an excellent guide and took us up to the castle, down to the bridge and so forth. Again, ice cream was consumed and best of all, I bumped into Lena in the street! Wow. Talk about coincidences…
So, beer, schnitzel, churches, castles, bridges, bakeries, cafés, hostels, multi-lingual games of 21, Finzi, Bach, so on and so forth…it was all very nice and I even learnt some German!

…what's next?

One of my favourite quotable moments from children's literature is in The owl who was afraid of the dark. Plop, the baby barn owl, can't fly yet, so his parents bring him food. Each time he says "mmm, what was that?"and his parents reply, for example "a worm" and he says "I like worms, what's next?" Plop then transfers this to other things he meets in life, for example, fireworks: "ooh, what was that?" "A catherine wheel" "ooh, I like catherine wheels. What's next?"

I feel a bit like Plop, only perhaps a little more grown up. I feel like saying "oooh, I like year in France. What's next?"

Of course, the answer to what's next is Finals. If only a boy scout could explain what those involved like he explained fireworks to the baby barn owl. But in the meantime there are plenty of distractions in store. First of all, the summer holidays. A post about our recent choir tour to Germany will follow…then came a bit of work on the dissertation, mingled with the release of the last harry potter book (a few chapters left now…) and a 21st party for two friends on saturday, which involved a combination of bouncy castle and pouring rain…
More dissertation work to come, hopefully combined with some punting tour work here and there. I'll be off up to Edinburgh for a weekend, and then helping put the finishing touch to Elizabeth's wedding preparations: the big day is August 11th! Then at the end of August I'm off to Romania, but I shall write more about that nearer the time.
Persons in Cambridge and/or within reach of Cambridge, let me know and we shall meet up!

The End of an Era

No sooner was I back from England than Laura and Cristina, two of my best Italian friends, arrived on the train from Parma for the weekend, bearing much cheese and salami and enjoying a swift but fun tour of Lyon's best delights before dashing back again to face exams.
The last week of June then promptly disappeared in a muddle of flatmates coming and going, negociations with the next people to occupy our wonderful flat, worries about what to do with most of the furniture, packing, and a sense that we ought to be making the most of the last few days together and not faffing around with rental agencies, cleaning or furniture removal. We managed a couple of relaxed nights in during which most of my friends who were still in Lyon popped round to say goodbye, not that it felt permanent at that point! It didn't really sink in that we weren't coming back to live in that lovely flat until Gareth and I were walking along the road with our suitcases, and even then it felt rather as if we were going on holiday (well, Gareth pretty much was as he has now returned to Lyon, albeit to a different flat)! We met Louise, a girl I'd met at church and who was on an engineering erasmus year, at the airport, and travelling together distracted us a bit from the reality of leaving it all behind.
It did feel like the end of an era that week, and it was the end of this blog's first era too: I shall no longer be reporting much on the whims and wonders of the French lifestyle, although I shall attempt to carry on reporting the odd thing or two of interest from life back in the UK now that I am a grown up linguist (or something like that).

May Week Culture Shock

Last week was (for those who aren't in the know…) "May Week" in Cambridge, a week set aside after exams during which everyone spends their days lazing around in the gardens, punting in the sunshine, drinking pimms or champagne and eating strawberries at multiple garden parties, playing in under-rehearsed but very lively may week concerts, and, most importantly, going to May Balls. Given that this is rather a lot of fun, and, especially, that most of my friends had just finished their finals and so were celebrating the very end of their degrees and their last may week, I decided to return to Cambridge for a few days.
Of course, this also meant I could take half of my stuff (perhaps slightly more than half in reality) back home from France. So on Saturday morning I left the flat in Lyon, with an enormous suitcase weighing a good 30kg and my violin over my shoulder and caught the TGV to Lille. For the two hours from Lyon to Paris Charles de Gaulle I was sat next to a (French) soldier who was on his way to Iraq for three months, and who was looking forward (if somewhat apprehensively) to his 'retirement' in six months' time and wondering what life was going to be like for him back in the real world. He also told me about his weight allowance (35kg) that meant that after his gun (25kg) he could live from 10kg plus his hand luggage. That's a lot less than my 30 (ish) I was taking home!
After that the journey got slightly more boring. I had an hour and a half to waste in Lille Europe waiting for my eurostar, and then sat next to a german lady who was reading her newspaper (in german). Crossing London was hard work, though people were very helpful in giving me a hand getting my case back up the steps out of the underground. All went to plan and at 4pm I was back home just in time to have a brief breather before heading out to the week's first party, which was a bbq (under a makeshift gazebo) for Alastair's birthday. It felt bizarre to be back but lovely to see everyone, in particular Caroline who I hadn't seen for a whole 11 months!
Next morning, church, of course, followed by drinks at the Vicarage where I met Clare, a lovely girl who happens to have sung with Greg (the world is small), and to whom I was able to explain the mystery of the green and red shoes… In the afternoon, Cripps Court garden party, before collecting Mylene from the bus station and eating a quick dinner. We then ventured out again to the Selwyn May Week Concert: typically underrehearsed but sounding excellent for it!
The rest of the week flew by, as expected, in a haze of garden parties, fireworks, choir vegetarian feast, and so forth. On Tuesday evening I went to work at St John's may ball, in the rain, which proved great fun, the highlight undoubtedly being eating chocolate cake at a "birthday party" for Isobel and me in the middle of the night. Thursday came round remarkably soon and I left Mylène to find her friend Katie, and ran off to Stansted with hand luggage only, to arrive in Lyon just in time to go to one of my schools and attend their 'reporting back' evening on our trip to England: the children had clearly missed me so it was a nice welcome 'home'.
The funny thing was, it really did feel like returning home. May week, although endless fun and a great moment to see friends, was the most bizarre culture shock experience I'd had in a long time. I'm sure getting back in the "bubble" long-term will be less strange, but getting back into it, sort of, for a few days, was definitely an odd experience.

Une soirée franco-anglaise

Yesterday I was very kindly invited to dinner with Danielle and Denise, two of the lovely teachers with whom I survived a week of school trip to England, and Denise's family. It's something they'd been hoping to do ever since I finished teaching, and finally we found a good day. The meal included sausage à la Lyonnaise, and a very impressive trifle that Denise had had fun creating , but perhaps the most exciting part was the starter: snails! Despite the slimy reports I'd heard about them…they were actually okay! Just like mussels, without the fishy taste and with lots of garlic and parsley and butter. Mmm. Delicious…as long as you don't think about where they came from!
Here's a pic of me eating them:

It's already June 10th?

Today Claire flew to Mauritius, accompanied (amongst others) by her big new rucksack, and by a friend with a broken rib. Meanwhile, Rebecca, Antonia and I went to Grenoble. Neither so exotic nor so risqué…but very very hot (it felt like we were inside a fan oven in the middle of the afternoon) and thundery. And France-on-a-Sunday-ish. After a wild goose chase to find the tourist office, coffee in a nice café, and a discussion as to how fast the trams went and whether or not a town like Grenoble might have a metro (this was the Parisian point of view…), we went to have a picnic lunch by the museum. After some tasty nibbling, we visited said museum, which was full of fascinating (if poorly explained) art, especially of the C20th variety, and which itself was incredibly well-built with a good layout and excellent natural lighting.
From here, we proceeded a short way back along the Isère as far as the "telephérique": it was at this point that we realised that within the next half hour it would be thundering and chucking it down…so we ascended the hill in our little bubble and had a quick look (and joke) at the 'little' alps we could see around the town (almost all of them higher than snowdon…). We then sheltered in a rather nice café/restaurant for a drink while the rain fell…looked around a rather disappointing astronomical exhibition, and then walked down the hill while the thunder continued to growl menacingly, mid a discussion involving astronauts and priests (!). At the bottom of the hill, after a little looking, we found what we were looking for: the "musée dauphinoise" which is a sociological museum about the area…the first exhibition we looked at (entitled "Les êtres fantastiques") was not particularly spectacular, but the second ("les gens des Alpes") was rather interesting and nicely set out.
Antonia left at this point as she needed to get back to Lyon, while Rebecca and I began our search for somewhere not too crummy, nor too expensive, open and serving food on a Sunday evening. This proved harder than we had initially imagined, but we did in the end find one which served us some nice crêpes.
Our verdict on Grenoble was…nice, but not very special.
Perhaps the most bizarre part of the day came after this though, as on the train home Rebecca was writing some notes ready for a piece she's writing about Lyon (it's to do with a job application, but I won't say more for now…). At this point she was looking for 5 words that sum up Lyon (in English). This was tricky, and so we were thinking out loud about it. The guy who was sitting next to us in the train decided to join in: he lived in Grenoble, but had studied in Lyon so knew it reasonably well. It turned out, during the course of our 1 1/2 hour conversation with him (not *all* about 5 words for Lyon!) that he is a "secouriste en montagne", in other words a mountain rescuer, super-skier, first aider, helicopter dude. We thought for a moment we might be on the way to an invitation to Chamonix…alas, it didn't quite materialise, but it was lots of fun hearing about his job and entertaining him with my crazy theories and rebecca's travel writing. And, as she said afterwards, at least we now know for sure that we'd be in safe hands on the mountains now!