While I was seeking to get into postgrad education I got into a habit of regularly buying the Times Higher Educational Supplement. I fondly remember it as a restrained newspaper, interesting, informative and occasionally incomprehensible.
I've started getting it again - but it's not the same. It is no longer the restrained Times Higher, instead it has re-invented itself as THE, a glossy magazine. I don't think I'm especially reactionary, but I find it hard to see the point. The pictures don't appear to actually add any value to the text and the best I can say is that it's easier to read over lunch.
I have to admit the cover article on how lecturers cope with student despair is a worthwhile read though - and curiously lacking in any mention of the role and place of Chaplaincies within staff and student support. Another sign of the times, perhaps?
Friday 11 April 2008
Tuesday 8 April 2008
On Hospital Visiting and (O)Mission Statistics...
On the delights of Hospital Visiting.
Yes, there is irony in the title. I have no objections or problems with visiting (even if all too often by the time you find that someone has been in hospital that they're actually out!). Except that is on the first ever visit to a previously unknown hospital. In which case events will go something like this.
1. Find the hospital. It will inevitably be where the road maps say it is, but you are taken by a very strange route if you follow the road signs.
2. Find the way into the car parks, whose signs are usually obscured or made more difficult to read by the dozens of cars illegally parked on the roads outside. There is a high probability that you will miss the turning.
3. Find a Visitors' Car Park. Take especial care over car parks that are "staff only" for some of the day, but "visitors' use" at others. There is a high chance that the signs are out of date and/or mutually contradictory.
4. Find a parking space, which may entail up to 15 minutes of driving round in circles, possibly through multiple car parks. (see 3)
5. Find a working ticket machine. The one nearest to you will not be operational. This may entail a trip on foot to other car parks, and the worry about whether tickets are valid between car parks.
6. Find the correct change, or the nearest estimation. This will inevitably be an extortionate amount of money, for far longer than you need, enabling you to pop into Out-Patients for a quick Chiropody session should you so wish. (You may think the money would have been better spent on a couple of cans of beer, though. See 9).
7. Find an entrance to the hospital - which is not always obvious. Once you find a plan you will inevitably discover that you have parked the furthest possible distance from the ward or department you seek. Gird your loins.
8. Your route will take you past the canteen. You will feel hungry. You will discover you have spent all your change in the ticket machine.
9. Find the Ward. No matter how well you think you have planned you will discover that Visiting Hours for that one ward, and possibly that one ward only, are different from the ones you were given, and the doors were closed about the time you found the hospital.
10. Retrace your steps, which in God's providence will have led you past the Chapel. If God is feeling merciful there will be a Chaplain present, so you can let them know who you were trying to visit!
Of course, once you've made a few visits you know all the pitfalls - which is when the hospital will start playing the game known as "Pass the Patient". This serves purely to amuse the hospital CCTV operators - and to enhance the ticket machine revenues!
(O)Mission Statistics
I will admit to not being the most organised of people on occasion, but there are limits. I have finally managed to start work on the wonderfully mis-named documentation known as "Statistics for Mission" - or more accurately Statistics of Attendance. Every church should have the following sorts of records: a service register, a baptism register, 2 wedding registers and (possibly, and I'm still a little hazy on this, as I've only recently remembered its existence) a funeral register.
Each year you are sent a form to record numbers, the requests for which seem to get longer every year but for 2007 include:
This form is accompanied by a further sheet of Notes, printed on jolly coloured paper. Note: there is nothing jolly about these notes!
Then, of course, there are the mistakes (and no errata). For example someone has forgotten to change a date in the statistics form from last year to this one, just in case you weren't already confused. And, of course, the numbers of the Notes on the Notes Sheet don't correspond with the expectations of the request form.
But all this is simply preparatory. Even if you have all the required registers, and even if they are filled in correctly, you still cannot answer the questions correctly unless you have kept supplementary records!
Figures entered into the Service Registers don't at least in my, Parish include the clergy. That's not too difficult to mentally amend. We are even encouraged to discount folks who have attended twice on the same day - which is fine if the person compiling the register attends all the services.
Consider, however, the following statement, which relates to both Easter Eve and Easter Day and Christmas Eve and Christmas Day as a two single required figures (and I quote):
There is no way I, or anyone else, can realistically remember how many of the 55 or so adults (of which 30 received Communion - or is that 31 including the vicar?) who attended Christmas Midnight Service were among the 12 adults (all of whom received Communion - and again, what about the Vicar) at 9.30am on Christmas Morning. Of course there will be some duplication, but short of taking extensive (and time consuming records) at the time, who knows?
This might seem petty. After all, surely what we need is the general picture. But if the general picture of the Church of England is comprised of small to medium size parishes (as I believe it is) the statistical effect of the inevitable estimations and errors this will produce will result in statistics that are at best seriously flawed, and at worst, totally unrepresentative.
Me. I'm off to church to sit in a cold vestry and do the best I can. Spare a prayer would you please?
Yes, there is irony in the title. I have no objections or problems with visiting (even if all too often by the time you find that someone has been in hospital that they're actually out!). Except that is on the first ever visit to a previously unknown hospital. In which case events will go something like this.
1. Find the hospital. It will inevitably be where the road maps say it is, but you are taken by a very strange route if you follow the road signs.
2. Find the way into the car parks, whose signs are usually obscured or made more difficult to read by the dozens of cars illegally parked on the roads outside. There is a high probability that you will miss the turning.
3. Find a Visitors' Car Park. Take especial care over car parks that are "staff only" for some of the day, but "visitors' use" at others. There is a high chance that the signs are out of date and/or mutually contradictory.
4. Find a parking space, which may entail up to 15 minutes of driving round in circles, possibly through multiple car parks. (see 3)
5. Find a working ticket machine. The one nearest to you will not be operational. This may entail a trip on foot to other car parks, and the worry about whether tickets are valid between car parks.
6. Find the correct change, or the nearest estimation. This will inevitably be an extortionate amount of money, for far longer than you need, enabling you to pop into Out-Patients for a quick Chiropody session should you so wish. (You may think the money would have been better spent on a couple of cans of beer, though. See 9).
7. Find an entrance to the hospital - which is not always obvious. Once you find a plan you will inevitably discover that you have parked the furthest possible distance from the ward or department you seek. Gird your loins.
8. Your route will take you past the canteen. You will feel hungry. You will discover you have spent all your change in the ticket machine.
9. Find the Ward. No matter how well you think you have planned you will discover that Visiting Hours for that one ward, and possibly that one ward only, are different from the ones you were given, and the doors were closed about the time you found the hospital.
10. Retrace your steps, which in God's providence will have led you past the Chapel. If God is feeling merciful there will be a Chaplain present, so you can let them know who you were trying to visit!
Of course, once you've made a few visits you know all the pitfalls - which is when the hospital will start playing the game known as "Pass the Patient". This serves purely to amuse the hospital CCTV operators - and to enhance the ticket machine revenues!
(O)Mission Statistics
I will admit to not being the most organised of people on occasion, but there are limits. I have finally managed to start work on the wonderfully mis-named documentation known as "Statistics for Mission" - or more accurately Statistics of Attendance. Every church should have the following sorts of records: a service register, a baptism register, 2 wedding registers and (possibly, and I'm still a little hazy on this, as I've only recently remembered its existence) a funeral register.
Each year you are sent a form to record numbers, the requests for which seem to get longer every year but for 2007 include:
- Baptisms
- Thanksgivings for the birth of children
- Marriage
- Wedding Blessings
- Funerals
- Easter and Christmas Communicants and Attendants
- Church Attendance in October (both Sundays and Week days)
- Adults working (in a parochial capacity) with older young people)
- Attendance on a "normal" Sunday
- Church Membership as stated on the Electoral Roll.
This form is accompanied by a further sheet of Notes, printed on jolly coloured paper. Note: there is nothing jolly about these notes!
Then, of course, there are the mistakes (and no errata). For example someone has forgotten to change a date in the statistics form from last year to this one, just in case you weren't already confused. And, of course, the numbers of the Notes on the Notes Sheet don't correspond with the expectations of the request form.
But all this is simply preparatory. Even if you have all the required registers, and even if they are filled in correctly, you still cannot answer the questions correctly unless you have kept supplementary records!
Figures entered into the Service Registers don't at least in my, Parish include the clergy. That's not too difficult to mentally amend. We are even encouraged to discount folks who have attended twice on the same day - which is fine if the person compiling the register attends all the services.
Consider, however, the following statement, which relates to both Easter Eve and Easter Day and Christmas Eve and Christmas Day as a two single required figures (and I quote):
In the attending worship boxes please enter the total number of people that attended worship... Please include all people: communicants and those that did not communion; adults, children and young people; clergy and laity. However, as far as is possible, each person should only be counted once even if they attended more than one service.This can only be done if far more detailed records are kept than provided for in the register books - and most folks would be rather worried if their presence were recorded by name. Yet this is pretty much what is required to maintain any degree of accuracy, even, or maybe especially, in a small church.
There is no way I, or anyone else, can realistically remember how many of the 55 or so adults (of which 30 received Communion - or is that 31 including the vicar?) who attended Christmas Midnight Service were among the 12 adults (all of whom received Communion - and again, what about the Vicar) at 9.30am on Christmas Morning. Of course there will be some duplication, but short of taking extensive (and time consuming records) at the time, who knows?
This might seem petty. After all, surely what we need is the general picture. But if the general picture of the Church of England is comprised of small to medium size parishes (as I believe it is) the statistical effect of the inevitable estimations and errors this will produce will result in statistics that are at best seriously flawed, and at worst, totally unrepresentative.
Me. I'm off to church to sit in a cold vestry and do the best I can. Spare a prayer would you please?
Monday 7 April 2008
Ouch or "Curiouser and Curiouser" said Alice!
One of those bizarre news stories that break the routine!
Life would be far more boring without the dear old BBC.
Life would be far more boring without the dear old BBC.
Thursday 3 April 2008
Faith, Creativity and Loss
As I'm sure many of my long term readers will remember I am a fan of Role Playing Games, and, it must be siad, other related forms of creativity. Every so often I blog a few reflections on these, and how Christian life and faith interacts with them. Many of you might also remember how such creative writing often absorbs much, and possibly too much, of my spare time, both the odd moments and concentrated periods of the day off or quiet evenings. It is, no doubt, a form of therapy and relaxation. There have always been questions about where Christian faith sits with such a pastime - and many years ago I found myself under pressure from certain zealous fellow Christians to not only give it up but even go so far as to be told I needed deliverance ministry!
Nevertheless as we are made in the image of God, who surely possess the greatest possible of imaginations in conceiving the entire created order it seems totally consistent to engage that germ of creativity planted deep within each one of us. Individually the hardest issue for me is how I feel generally incapable of turning that to distinctly Christian ends, unless most simply expressed in the "how about we do this" sort of idea. (Ideas which I freely confess I often lack the means of bringing to completion!) Nevertheless, such ideas seem very shallow compared with the challenge of creating a complete virtual nation or world, combining my knowledge, both already known and learned along the way, with my profligate imagination. In two ways it's fair to say, in the language of the King James Bible, that such things are "vain imaginings." They are vain in the fact that they are not directed towards the glory of God in any other way than to employ the gifts and skills I possess - although if we were to judge all things by that criterion we could find ourselves in a dangerously joyless and staid world, somewhat like the mindset that can hold certain types of churches in its grasp! Likewise they are vain in the sense that I, and I suspect many other like-minded writers and sub-creators wish their work to be valued by others. I've siad before of the thrill of having some of my material published, if only so far in a fan-publication. But this is predominantly background to this post - which is as much a piece of personal therapy as theological reflection.
I am, at moment, grieving. Nothing as severe as the sense of loss brought about by the death of a family member or friend, but still a bereavement of sorts. Over the past few weeks I had come to the conclusion that it was time for me to reluctantly drop out of the Eshraval geofiction project, with which I've been associated since April 2006. I had stepped back, gone on holiday and realised that I actually wasn't missing it. I'd taken the laptop, expecting to do some creative writing and never actually turned it on. So yesterday, having spent several days trying to work out how to best withdraw, since my nation had had quite an important historical place in the world, if not in the present, I was prepared to formally resign, only to discover that there had, over the last few days been a very quick (to my mind) decision to scrub a lot of fundamental stuff and start again. (I might be over-stating the case as I haven't read everything posted over the last weeks, another indication of the time-eating nature of the hobby). Here was my golden chance to withdraw, with minimum disruption to the project.
However, my feelings are very mixed. Leave aside the fact despite being an Administrator nobody had actually bothered to contact me until quite late in the proceedings - to be fair I hadn't been able to pull my weight. Even leave aside a general, vague unease about some things over recent weeks. One of the hardest things will be the loss of relationships. I have never physically met any of the players, but feel I do know them, at least more than superficially, since we have talked of faith, politics, life and so on. But maybe other reflections are more important on a spiritual/conceptual level. And I don't think any are premeditated, either. It simply struck me as I was pondering over these things last night that although I'm the sort of person who rather likes fairly tightly defined boundaries within which to work, both in real life and in terms of creativity, that I was one of the founding group of people who'd shaped the game world. I wouldn't claim to be the most important by a long way, but I'd been there pretty much constantly.
Yet now, with a goodly number of different players and the dropping out of a lot of "old hands" there was, for lack of better words, a dissatisfaction with the way of things, leading to a decision to change them. It is, I suspect, a reflection of the fundamental human desire to be in control. To learn from the best of the past and create anew. To start again filled with hope. Which is all well and good - apart from the fact that we started again with hope a mere 9 months ago. I'm sure that the hope is that a good deal of the material can be transported to the next incarnation of the game, but the net effect is still that thousands of words, and hundreds of hours of creative effort has, at a stroke been rendered obsolete, even effectively declared worthless. And that hurts. When you write for pleasure, whether for possible publication or not, it is possible to salvage material. Indeed I have megabytes of materials on my hard drives for different RPG systems. I delight in re-reading them every so often, and may use bits of them again. What makes creativity special for me, particularly with Eshraval, is that it takes place in a co-operative environment. You cannot create a nation that feels in any degree real unless there are interactions with the wider world. Solo creativity cannot beat that. (Possibly here's a place for reflection to on the nature of God as Trinity, three interconnected and interdependent aspects in relationship...?)
I also wonder whether the latest "revision" and perceptions of it have something to do with relative age. I know that I was one of (if not the) oldest players. With age there are added responsibilities that younger players do not have, most often with regards to work and family commitments, and those inevitably colour things. What may seem only a small amount of effort to the sixth form or university student maybe very different for the "family man." I suspect that the same happens in our lives of faith too. For Esh at least I'm no longer sure I'm willing to invest the hours I did, especially when it seems so casually wiped away. (And that is not an established fact by any means). But now I'm beginning to drift, and I have work to do. Nevertheless this is still important.
Let's just say that this morning I'm a little sore. Aware of my inabilities and inefficiencies, that which I have not done which I feel I ought to have done, even if I couldn't. Wanting to return to a past which has now gone. Tempted to join in the latest great future - and fully aware that I really should sit out for a few months and then consider re-joining, yet actually feeling a degree of obligation towards friends and colleagues. Definitely bereavement of sorts.
If any fellow (ex-)Eshers out there are reading this know that I'll miss you, and it. In the mean time, I wonder quite where my creativity will lead me next?
Nevertheless as we are made in the image of God, who surely possess the greatest possible of imaginations in conceiving the entire created order it seems totally consistent to engage that germ of creativity planted deep within each one of us. Individually the hardest issue for me is how I feel generally incapable of turning that to distinctly Christian ends, unless most simply expressed in the "how about we do this" sort of idea. (Ideas which I freely confess I often lack the means of bringing to completion!) Nevertheless, such ideas seem very shallow compared with the challenge of creating a complete virtual nation or world, combining my knowledge, both already known and learned along the way, with my profligate imagination. In two ways it's fair to say, in the language of the King James Bible, that such things are "vain imaginings." They are vain in the fact that they are not directed towards the glory of God in any other way than to employ the gifts and skills I possess - although if we were to judge all things by that criterion we could find ourselves in a dangerously joyless and staid world, somewhat like the mindset that can hold certain types of churches in its grasp! Likewise they are vain in the sense that I, and I suspect many other like-minded writers and sub-creators wish their work to be valued by others. I've siad before of the thrill of having some of my material published, if only so far in a fan-publication. But this is predominantly background to this post - which is as much a piece of personal therapy as theological reflection.
I am, at moment, grieving. Nothing as severe as the sense of loss brought about by the death of a family member or friend, but still a bereavement of sorts. Over the past few weeks I had come to the conclusion that it was time for me to reluctantly drop out of the Eshraval geofiction project, with which I've been associated since April 2006. I had stepped back, gone on holiday and realised that I actually wasn't missing it. I'd taken the laptop, expecting to do some creative writing and never actually turned it on. So yesterday, having spent several days trying to work out how to best withdraw, since my nation had had quite an important historical place in the world, if not in the present, I was prepared to formally resign, only to discover that there had, over the last few days been a very quick (to my mind) decision to scrub a lot of fundamental stuff and start again. (I might be over-stating the case as I haven't read everything posted over the last weeks, another indication of the time-eating nature of the hobby). Here was my golden chance to withdraw, with minimum disruption to the project.
However, my feelings are very mixed. Leave aside the fact despite being an Administrator nobody had actually bothered to contact me until quite late in the proceedings - to be fair I hadn't been able to pull my weight. Even leave aside a general, vague unease about some things over recent weeks. One of the hardest things will be the loss of relationships. I have never physically met any of the players, but feel I do know them, at least more than superficially, since we have talked of faith, politics, life and so on. But maybe other reflections are more important on a spiritual/conceptual level. And I don't think any are premeditated, either. It simply struck me as I was pondering over these things last night that although I'm the sort of person who rather likes fairly tightly defined boundaries within which to work, both in real life and in terms of creativity, that I was one of the founding group of people who'd shaped the game world. I wouldn't claim to be the most important by a long way, but I'd been there pretty much constantly.
Yet now, with a goodly number of different players and the dropping out of a lot of "old hands" there was, for lack of better words, a dissatisfaction with the way of things, leading to a decision to change them. It is, I suspect, a reflection of the fundamental human desire to be in control. To learn from the best of the past and create anew. To start again filled with hope. Which is all well and good - apart from the fact that we started again with hope a mere 9 months ago. I'm sure that the hope is that a good deal of the material can be transported to the next incarnation of the game, but the net effect is still that thousands of words, and hundreds of hours of creative effort has, at a stroke been rendered obsolete, even effectively declared worthless. And that hurts. When you write for pleasure, whether for possible publication or not, it is possible to salvage material. Indeed I have megabytes of materials on my hard drives for different RPG systems. I delight in re-reading them every so often, and may use bits of them again. What makes creativity special for me, particularly with Eshraval, is that it takes place in a co-operative environment. You cannot create a nation that feels in any degree real unless there are interactions with the wider world. Solo creativity cannot beat that. (Possibly here's a place for reflection to on the nature of God as Trinity, three interconnected and interdependent aspects in relationship...?)
I also wonder whether the latest "revision" and perceptions of it have something to do with relative age. I know that I was one of (if not the) oldest players. With age there are added responsibilities that younger players do not have, most often with regards to work and family commitments, and those inevitably colour things. What may seem only a small amount of effort to the sixth form or university student maybe very different for the "family man." I suspect that the same happens in our lives of faith too. For Esh at least I'm no longer sure I'm willing to invest the hours I did, especially when it seems so casually wiped away. (And that is not an established fact by any means). But now I'm beginning to drift, and I have work to do. Nevertheless this is still important.
Let's just say that this morning I'm a little sore. Aware of my inabilities and inefficiencies, that which I have not done which I feel I ought to have done, even if I couldn't. Wanting to return to a past which has now gone. Tempted to join in the latest great future - and fully aware that I really should sit out for a few months and then consider re-joining, yet actually feeling a degree of obligation towards friends and colleagues. Definitely bereavement of sorts.
If any fellow (ex-)Eshers out there are reading this know that I'll miss you, and it. In the mean time, I wonder quite where my creativity will lead me next?
Wednesday 2 April 2008
Classy April Fool
I'm sure you've heard of this, or seen this by now, but if you haven't, treat yourself with the BBC's Flying Penguins!
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