Lost “u”

Not having Sky One, I have been reliant on kind friends to send me series 3 of Lost as it comes out. Justin’s recently taken up the mantle and is sending me a couple of episodes every fortnight.

I’ll not give any spoilers - other than to say the series has been up to its usual standard of twists, turns, and edge-of-the-seat drama. It still remains probably the best thing on telly.

However, in episode 7 they committed a major faux-pas. In a flashback sequence, a character passes an army recruitment office in London and is briefly distracted by a poster in the window, which contains two unforgiveable errors.

1. The poster is advertising the Royal Scots. Why would they be recruiting in London?
2. The caption at the bottom is “Honor and Adventure”.

There are few things I hate more in life than American spelling, and the arrogance and ignorance with which the show’s producers used it in a British context was startling.

I’ll forgive them, though. It’s Lost, after all.

Hot Fuzz

I went to see Hot Fuzz at the cinema on Saturday. It was amazing.

Hot Fuzz is another creation from the people who brought you the brilliant rom-zom-com Shaun of the Dead, and is the story of a brilliant London police officer sent to a sleepy English country town who discovers some shady goings-on that his new colleagues seem oblivious to. The film is a hysterical portrayal of small-town life in England and has plenty of that under-rated cinema device, comedy violence.

It’s also one of those films that stars just about every British actor you can think of, often in very unlikely roles, and Simon Pegg is brilliant in the lead role.

The fast action, the witty one-liners and the unexpected twists and turns make this easily the funniest film of the year so far, and probably the funniest I’ve seen since Snakes On A Plane.

It is, however, quintissentially British. I can’t imagine Americans either getting Hot Fuzz in the slightest or making a film like it. I was actually sore from laughing at the end of it.

Day 5 (I think): acts of kindness

Just before going to church yesterday morning, I caught a bit of the Heaven and Earth Show on telly, and saw a report about the Church of England’s new guide to Lent. Rather than tell us all what to give up and how, it encourages folk to perform acts of kindness throughout Lent. Like reverse haggle in a charity shop. Hand out fruit. Give free hugs. That sort of thing.

All a grand idea, but it’s all very Join Me. Joinees have been doing random acts of kindness (”raoks”) every Friday for years - why do we need Lent to do it? I guess having an excuse or motivation always helps, and the more people “raok” the better, so I am certainly not complaining about the CofE’s initiative.

But… if Lent is just copying ideas from other people, then I’m still no closer to finding its true meaning and purpose.

Jesus - the new Danny Wallace? No.

The Faroes Five

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m planning a trip to the Faroe Islands with as many of the “Aberdeen gang” - Justin, Niall, Mark and Claire - as can make it.

Plans are still on, albeit now delayed until June to hopefully take in their home matches against Scotland and Italy in the Euro 2008 qualifiers, and some of us might not be able to make the trip.

I had originally suggested sailing from Aberdeen, with a day or two in Shetland in either direction. I reckon you never quite appreciate distances when flying, and sailing the north Atlantic would have been a unique and challenging experience, a great excuse to visit Shetland again, and above all a chance to appreciate the journey as much as the destination - which is what travel is all about.

That said, I am a dreadful sailor, and four twelve-hour sailings in about a week would probably have been the end of me. So it’s probably a good thing I was outvoted by those who in favour of flying.

Justin booked the flights today for those of us who are certain about going, and I am now a whopping £276.40 poorer, but also £276.40 more excited.

Day 2: What is “sliced”?

I’ve (more or less) figured out my definition of bread. What is my definition of sliced?

Wiktionary defines “sliced” as something that has been cut into slices.

Helpful.

The definition of “slice“, then, is “A thin, broad piece cut off; as, a slice of bacon; a slice of cheese; a slice of bread.” The idea of a thin slice seems to imply something that can be sliced into numerous pieces where the thinness and broadness is such that it is always more broad than thick. And if you take off one slice, there’s more than just one slice left.

This in my mind rules out what you’d normally do to a roll, bagel, panino, and so on in terms of cutting them into two bits, as Jon implies, which doesn’t really strike me as slicing at all.

So as long as I eat bread in chunks or portions that are not slices, I’m fine.

I think.

Day 1: What is bread?

I told a friend today that I was avoiding sliced bread for Lent and that I had a panini for lunch. Or panino, if you will. I was reminded, however, that panini is a type of bread. In a panic, I checked the definition on (where else?) Wikipedia:

…a sandwich made from a small loaf of bread.

Argh. Failure at the very start. But is it sliced bread?

The loaf is often cut horizontally and filled with salami, ham, meat, cheese or other food, and sometimes served hot.

Phew - you cut a panini, rather than slicing it. I’m safe.

But it raised the fundamental question of what exactly bread is. Or rather, what the term includes. Wikipedia defines it as baked, steamed or fried dough, usually comprising flour, water and yeast, which is rather dangerously all-encompassing.

It reminds me of the episode from Red Dwarf when Kryten repairs the rather demented and toast-obsessed A.I. toaster, very much against Lister’s wishes.

TOASTER: Howdy doodly do! How’s it going? I’m Talkie - Talkie Toaster, your chirpy breakfast companion. Talkie’s the name, toasting’s the game. Anyone like any toast?

LISTER: Look, I don’t want any toast, and he [indicating Kryten] doesn’t want any toast. In fact, no one around here wants any toast. Not now, not ever. No. Toast.

TOASTER: How about a muffin?

LISTER: OR muffins! OR muffins! We don’t LIKE muffins around here! We want no muffins, no toast, no teacakes, no buns, baps, baguettes or bagels, no croissants, no crumpets, no pancakes, no potato cakes and no hot-cross buns and definitely no smegging flapjacks!

TOASTER: Ah, so you’re a waffle man!

The Bible is not much clearer - one of the early references to bread in Genesis offers very little detail as to the ingredients, and later there is mention of bread both with and without yeast. Still pretty broad.

Now, either I convene a meeting of the world’s finest bakers and theologians to debate the issue, or I play safe over Lent by avoiding any bread or bread-related products that are in any way sliced.

But that doesn’t make sense - bread usually means the regular, normal, bread-shaped loaves that you get in shops. Rolls, bagels, and so on are generally known by those names and not as “bread”. Therefore I think the conventional idea of sliced bread (a large loaf of whatever shape, from which you get slices of bread), should be the target of my abstinence.

So that means today’s panino was a close shave - a sort of bread, but not actually, primarily, bread. And almost, but not quite, sliced.

Which brings me to my next dilemma - what, technically, is slicing? Watch this space.

Shrove Tuesday quiz

As exclusively revealed by David, church hosted a pancake party tonight to celebrate Shrove Tuesday - the last day before Lent. After the very yummy pancakes, there was a quiz hosted by fellow St Silasite Maggs and myself.

It all seemed to go well, folk said they enjoyed themselves, and not too many people seemed to notice that we missed out a round, fluffed up some of the marking, and had a minor collective panic attack at the halfway break. Thanks to everyone who helped us with the techie stuff and marking!

Although it was nerve-wracking, it was a lot of fun. Just like this weekend, it made me really feel like St Silas is a community, and not just a church.

The best thing since…

Being of Presbyterian stock, I’ve found various bits of piskyism a bit of a novelty since settling in St Silas. Liturgy. Taking communion more than four times a year. Having leaders who aren’t replaced annually.

And Lent: the period in the run-up to Easter in which Christians spend forty days without something, in remembrance of Jesus’s forty days of fasting in the desert. Beyond that, all I know about it is that it’s celebrated by Christians who wave incense and like to deprive themselves of something fun for six weeks. Unlike Presbyterians, who deprive themselves of fun all year round.

So as the church moves towards Lent, I’ve decided to strip off my blinkers and find out what all the fuss is about, by observing Lent for the first time.

I’d thought about alcohol - I gave it up for the month of November just for the sake of the personal challenge, and found it quite easy to do (apart from homegroup one week when I got a bottle of whisky wafted under my nose).

Then I mentioned the idea to fellow St Silasite Gill, who said that she tried giving it up for Lent once, but found it hard - despite being only an occasional drinker, she suddenly found alcohol to be “the best thing since sliced bread” once she had to go without it.

And then I realised what I should give up.

Sliced bread.

After all, it’s the best thing since… well, bread. And we all know how important bread is in Christianity.

Now… when does Lent start again?

Weekend in Kincraig

I’m now back from the weekend in Kincraig, near Aviemore. Nearly thirty folk (mostly from church), a very comfy hostel, a beautiful setting, lots of food and a bottle of Isle of Jura 10 year old - a recipe for a fun time.

I enjoyed taking the time to have some peace and quiet, do some reading and writing, and talk to some fantastic people. I also took lots of photos, which I’ve bunged on my Flickr. Conditions for photography were brilliant, because the weather was crisp, bright and clear, and even quite warm on occasions, despite being the middle of February. Scotland has been very lucky with the weather lately.

Sunday morning saw a handful of us at Alvie Church of Scotland, just along the road from Kincraig. It was an absolutely lovely church - a very typical small, rural parish church in many ways, but vibrant, friendly and very upbeat. And packed, which was a pleasant surprise. It was also in an absolutely beautiful setting, and some of my photos are from the churchyard which overlooks a very picturesque loch.

After a weekend in such a beautiful place, it was a bit of a shame to come back to Weegieland.

Webiversary

You know you spend too much time on the internet when…

Number 2: you feel more proud and excited to discover it’s your website’s second birthday, than you were at your own previous birthday.