I HOPE you are standing up to read this. I say this because I am now Rural Dean of Cambridge South, and feel that a certain deference is due. “Do we call you ‘Dean’?” one parishioner asked last week
The real thing
AS I write, we are still enjoying the celebrations for Shakespeare’s 400th anniversary. I was introduced to Shakespeare at an early age by my father, who would sometimes recite The Merchant of Venice to me instead of a bedtime story.
By the age of 11, I had read and become familiar wi...
HAD you been walking past our parish rooms a couple of Sundays ago, you would have heard our bring-and-share lunch in full swing. . .
WHAT does it take for something still to be “a thing”? This is not an ontological teaser (although, who knows, it might become one): it is a question about cultural currency.
What items in the landscape of our living are still relevant, fashionable, or, at least, in use?...
IT’S not every day that one has breakfast with Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu. I was in Cape Town in February on a research trip, and was fortunate enough to be able to spend some time
AT THE end of our Easter Day eucharist, I was chatting with another retired cleric about some of the potentially confusing lines in the hymns we had just sung. I was particularly bothered by “Now above the sky he’s King"
Down, but not out
I WAS sitting at my desk one morning, in the middle of writing an important and urgent letter to the Archdeacon, and not to be disturbed, when the doorbell rang. Muttering oaths to myself, I went downstairs and opened it.
An elderly man I didn’t know was standing there, clutching a...
"I AM not sure what unnerved me most: being thought of as elderly, or being thought of as a woman"
The “Wow!” factor
A FEW weeks ago, as the congregation was dispersing after the Sunday eucharist, a stranger came in. He walked through the doorway, stopped dead, and gasped.
It turned out that his visit was expected, and that he was an architect with a passion for beautiful and historic...
Up from underground
RUMOUR has it that an odd spectacle has been observed in Kildwick over the past few weeks: apparently, the Vicar’s wife has been spotted walking round and round on the church green, staring at the ground.
When one of my friends rang
Called to the bar
DO YOU ever have time on your hands on a wet February Friday evening in Ancona? To help you place it: call to mind the Ancient Greek colony halfway down the back of Italy’s boot, which became one of the Adriatic’s most significant ports.
If so, no need to panic: the Liberty Bar wil...