Whales, waterfalls, wonders!

I was up earlier than my usual inclination when on holiday but it was to make sure we had time to get to Husavik for our whale watching trip. We got there early! This meant we were able to go on an upgraded trip that included seeing the puffins at Lundy Island and travelling on a schooner (rather than a plastic boat). So I bravely took my sea sickness pill and stepped aboard.

I enjoyed my time, managed not to throw up and saw dolphins and a whale, so for me it was successful. Sandy was on cloud nine, especially when they turned the engine off and raised all 7 sails. My favourite bit was the hot chocolate and cinnamon roll!

The word of the day is 'Pufflings' which is the word to describe baby puffins! So sweet!!

The whale was either an unusually large Minky or a juvenile Finn Whale.

We then bought the makings of a picnic from a supermarket and found a lookout point on the peninsular to eat (very English, picnicking in the car!).

The landscape we were driving through became more and more bleak but was still beautiful. I remember thinking that you could hear the 'birth pangs of creation' in this raw volcanic setting. Sandy said it was not a scene of devastation following a disaster but a landscape that promised new life. This feels like the nursery of a continent - and the ability of tiny plants to grow through rock and lava is a symbol of the power of life.

If Peter Jackson had not chosen New Zealand to film Lord of the Rings, then Iceland would have been the place - sulphur fields would be great for Mordor!

We saw Europe's most powerful waterfall - Dettifoss. 44 metres high and thundering with tonnes of glacial meltwater, it was so dramatic. Hard to take in such power and scale.

On the way back to Hotel Sel at Myvatn we spotted some steam spouts, so stopped to investigate. We found a red, orange and yellow landscape of mud pools and steam vents. Historically this was a site where sulphur had been collected - deposited by the gasses and steam pushing up from magma trapped in the rocks below.

What an amazing day - we have experienced so much. Iceland is proving to be a fascinating and diverse place, full of wonder and beauty. Very strange and powerful - and there is so much more still to see.

Laid back, spectacular and startling

After a night in a lovely hotel near Gatwick, Sandy and I began our adventure in Iceland. We flew into Keflavick and were transferred by mini-bus to the small domestic airport in Reykjavik. On that short journey we met a couple who where on the same tour as us, but with a slightly altered itinerary - it was reassuring to find they also found it impossible to pronounce place names and where as excited and apprehensive as we are!

We arrived at the small airport two and a half hours early and were able to catch an earlier plane, which was brilliant - no extra charge, no bureaucracy - just a shrug and a 'why not?'. The flight was exhilarating, over a volcanic and glacial landscape that made sense of all those geography lessons that Mr Rocket tried to teach me long ago. Meandering rivers running through gorges and valleys, surrounded by ice-topped hills or mountains with sharp, razor like ridges, or flat topped because of millennia of glacial erosion.

We picked our car up and set off from Akureyri along the N1 - the only major road, which runs all around the island. Mountain roads, glacial lakes and perfect blue skies made for a wonderful and stunning journey. We had been told to look out for Godafoss - a spectacular waterfall. As we approached the area where it was meant to be I was increasingly sceptical, as the land had flattened out and I could not see any cliffs or hills big enough to support a large fall. Sandy pointed out some spray in the distance and we followed the tourist sign to the car park. As we turned in I was gobsmacked (technical Northern term meaning 'flabbergasted'). The waterfall was below us, thousands of years of water action had carved a horseshoe shaped basin, into which flows thousands of tonnes of water a second.

Godafoss means 'fall of the Gods' and marks the place where, in 1000ad, Porgeir Porkellson, Law Speaker in the Alpingi (world's oldest parliament), having decided that Iceland would become Christian, threw all the carvings of his family's pagan gods.

In the flow from this powerful waterfall a rock sits, stubbornly unmoving and on the rock are tiny pink flowers, clinging on against the odds. They seemed to me like the vestiges of the pagan beliefs - some rem

ain in superstition and belief in elves - others remain in more positive ways in a passionate love for creation and the environment. It would be easy to claim some sort of victory when the Speaker made his choice but it was political and to do with the security of the people. The human yearning for God was there before that decision was made, bubbling up in spiritualities that still seem attractive to some today.

We continued to our hotel, Sel at Lake Myvatn - 'Midge Lake' is sadly in no way ironic! But the lake is beautiful, our room is good and we have eaten well. It is almost 11pm and there is little sign of nightfall - in fact until 10pm there was a deep and warm golden glow across the surrounding hills.

Tomorrow - whale watching, puffins and more waterfalls. I can't wait!

Books, boats and boxes

It's over a month since my last post and you will be amazed to know that I have at last pruned my bookshelves. Okay so I've only got rid of about 50, which is a parlous in comparison with the 250 Sandy moved on. Still it involved making lots of little decisions which is surprisingly tiring!

Old Lyme Barge is now a beautiful colour - dark blue and white. Her bottom is blacked and her welds and anodes sorted out. So definitely ship-shape. However there was a bit of a Bilbo Baggins moment last week. What? Well, as he described his adventures we went 'there and back again'. Having carefully coaxed OLB out of dry dock and had her towed up the Thames, round the corner into the Grand Union, we realised that the lock-keeper on the Thames Lock at Brentford had gone away. This despite being booked to help ease our passage. So, nothing for it but to tow our shiny and beautiful boat back to the dock yard.

We did it all again on Monday - and our lovely vessel is now back home in her mooring. This is fortuitous indeed - we are due to move house next week, however... the manse is not ready to move into and will not be for another two weeks (at least!!!). So we will move our many (too many) possessions out and have them stored in the half finished house, whilst we will live on the houseboat.

Boxes seem to have overtaken our lives and I am not really able to get any work done on the day job. There is a strange unreality about this liminal place. Moving but not a new start. Moving out but not in. Expected to keep the show on the road but not having access to the things I rely on to prepare worship, funerals and meetings. Using our 'escape place' for normal living - including commuting Tamsin back to her old school for the last two weeks of term. All a bit weird and disconcerting.

So this is going to be an odd summer. Roll on our holiday, but only when all the other stuff is sorted.

Groaning Bookshelves

We are getting ready to move house. In a few weeks time our mountains of chattels will be squeezed onto a huge lorry (actually last time it was two lorries - the shame of it) and taken to our new home. It's not a house we would buy ourselves, but a mortgage free existence is not to be sneered at in these times of financial quick sand. One of the reasons we would not choose it, is that the rooms are all smaller than in our current home. Ah, there lies the rub. Quarts and pint pots just don't come into it.

Now the real root of the problem is that we have lived for six years in a house with quite enormous bedrooms, even the smallest takes a double bed and room for storage. So we have been spoilt - and we have still never managed to find homes for everything (like the pile of unhung pictures that never quite made it to the loft and have remained like a piece of dubious modern art on our bedroom floor).

So, now we really are going to have to get rid of some stuff. The 'useful one' who is gifted in the art of wielding drills and other such exciting bits of kit is heading for sainthood. When we married (21+ years ago) he had a lot more books than me - mostly about Cuba and world development. During those years I became a minister and now outstrip his book collection by a ridiculous amount. He has actually read ALL of his (I cannot claim such literary dedication). The beatification nomination is based on the fact that he has put aside two whole shelves of books for the use of the Oxfam bookshop in Ealing. I, as yet, have not set any aside for disposal. I do have a book token burning a hole in my handbag... just one more trip to Waterstone's darling? No - okay then.

So the next few weeks are going to be interesting. Just what can I let go of? And, why do I need to surround myself with this security blanket of words - millions of them. Perhaps I'm afraid that I'll run out of my own and be left with nothing to say.

Quick catch up!

I know, I know, it's been a while since I posted. Life is so very full and all my creative juices are somewhat diluted at the moment.

What have I been doing? Well there was Easter and all the fun and excitement... and extra work. There was a holiday (interrupted just a bit by trying to sort out a response to an Employment Tribunal and by the n

ews that a Circuit project had lost a member of staff due to her being deported on Easter Sunday...). The holiday involved a trawl of my family up north, Wednesday = Chesterfield, Thursday = Harrogate and Bolton, Friday = Manchester and Knowle, Saturday back home.

We did get some lovely days on the boat - including quite a lot more painting and some sitting in the sun drinking tea.

Also went to the wedding of my colleague Jen

and her partner Keith - both more friends than colleagues now. It was a beautiful occasion, with packed church, wonderful singing and liturgy that was so right for them. Jen looked amazing - as always, but especially so. It was a privilege to share in such a special day.

We have recently booked a holiday. When the kids are in Switzerland with Scouts in the August, Sandy and I are going to..... (drum roll).... Iceland! Hmm, not sure there's a connection between us booking and Eyjafjallajökull going up?

The weather this week has been stunning and I haven't made it to the boat once. It was been desperately busy. Tuesday was the toughest day, I began work at 7.45 and finished at 23.10 and I feel wrecked. Have had to plan Sunday's worship today on my day off - and yes, I am looking for sympathy - or at least understanding from those who are waiting for me to do things and wondering what happened to my creativity and efficiency!

The children were both in the school Spring Concert last night - which was truly superb. It was quite poignant because, though Robert will stay on for sixth form, we are trying to find Tamsin a school closer to where we are going to live in a few weeks time. She is seventh on the waiting list for the school we really want her to go to, so here's hoping. This means Tamsin's first Spring Concert at Claremont will be her last and that feels sad.

Ah yes, moving house. We need to start sorting stuff out - I hate sorting stuff out - burying my head in a bucket and hoping it all happens without me is probably not the best approach but is attractive.

Just a taster of why my blogging is not regular and a sign of how disorderly my thinking is at the moment.

God's Prodigious love

I'm not preaching this Sunday but am very aware of the lectionary text. It's not really about the son at all.... it's about the reckless love of the father.

I offer the following reflection, written a few years ago now. It is available in 'The Weaver, The Word and Wisdom' which can be ordered through twelvebaskets.co.uk !

In Love’s Embrace

A reflection on Rembrandt’s painting ‘The Return of the Prodigal Son’

I feel the weary weight of your arms as you embrace me

and the weary wait of your years of grief and loss.

You who were father and mother to me have no reason now

to offer open-handed welcome when I have deeply wounded you.

I can only bring a wasted, hollow shell of who I was, a shadow

of your hopes and dreams, your child who followed an empty vision.

Yet your welcome is overwhelming far beyond my dark imagining.

Your passion and generosity flow in tears and gifts, too real.

There is jealousy here, a quiet cynicism and a surly envy.

those who doubt me know me well and question the wisdom of welcome.

I too doubt myself, can I live this life? But, here in love’s embrace,

is the seed of grace, the heart of hope and the beginning of a new journey.

Lent Reflection

Having been asked to write a lenten reflection for Methodism's on-line 'Momentum', I thought I might as well link to it from here. There are lots of resources on the Methodist Church Website but I don't always remember to look!

Hope this season of reflection and journeying will be transformative - sometimes it's hard to see a way out of the wilderness and if a bloke with pointy horns and long tail offered some quick fixes to some of the issues I'm dealing with in the Circuit, I would be sorely tempted...