Crossing the threshold

One of the things about being a Catholic that I take for granted, til interfered with, is that I can walk into any Catholic Church or Cathedral unhindered and get on with whatever it might be that I'm there for and that so can anyone else.  On the very rare occasion when someone feels they have to hand me a piece of paper or talk to me, I'm a bit surprised. My Grandmother was so surprised when this happened to her one time that she turned round to look at me whilst walking forwards and tripped on a chair.  See what happens when folks transgress? Bad stuff.

Anyway, one thing that seems to upset people about the Old Mass/EF/TLM is that in the bad old days people, especially those pesky elderly ladies who go to Mass every single day, used to say the rosary during Mass.  Now I have bad news for those complaining people, particulary the ones who like to taunt priests with letters of complaint, you know the sort, because I have seen pesky elderly ladies who are at Mass every time I'm there, with said beads in their hands at the OF.   Did no-one tell them that all stopped 40 years ago?  Evidently not.  What's even worse is that some people who are not well above retirement age  also have rosaries in their hands. Dear oh dear. (Some people like me have them in their coat pockets.  )

So though it will be hard to start with, I think some airport style security is needed to weed out potential trouble-making bead-tellers at the door.

I'm debating what the alarm should sound like.  Probably the tritone at the start of 'On eagles wings.'

Other problems on the shopping list, which occur in both forms of the Mass, but particularly the EF.

Priests celebrating Mass in either form with their back to the congregation. It's just so rude. That's why despite the fact it's been explained to me umpteen times I'm still saying it.

Big candle sticks on the Altar which block my view. (OF versus populum.)

Too much Latin - a handy Latinometer is needed.

Maniples.

No chatty bits to tell me what to do, because I find it impossible to watch other people and copy them when I'm unsure.

It's just too quiet.

They didn't do any of this in the Early Church, but I'm not going to define how early or where exactly geographically.  OK just after breakfast in the Near East.
I don't like the silence.
We never get my favourite hymns.
I don't like the organ.
I'm sure the next Pope will change everything and then you will see that I am right. The Tablet has an article about the next Pope this week......

Traddie dining?

Saw this recently and thought there should be an outing...

Don't know if the food's any good, but still.

In a stew

Well no, because this is a very easy meal to make.  My family are all coming tonight and in the version by my mother (original and best, ) this is called, 'favourite dinner.'  Mine is a variation on a theme.

The seemingly huge quantity of braising steak that the lady in the butchers persuaded me to buy this morning now looks reasonable in the stock pot.  I may yet squirrel away a portion to freeze.

At least I wasn't distracted whilst paying by the sign they used to have which read, 'We no longer except Scottish bank notes.'

The 12 hours of Christmas

I only did two Masses for Christmas, so can't claim the triple crown sported by the young lady in Brighton, and a couple of sturdy singers in Blackfen.

The choir arrived rentamob style at 11.20pm, which was fortunate because that's when the carols started. I've learned not to worry that no-one is coming, because they always do. No before and after photos of the benches, I'm afraid.  Being Christmas we had all our new books in use too.

Fortunately, in the morning someone helpfully turned pages and pointed at the English setting, because I default to Sanctus and Agnus Dei when tired.  An EF Freudian slap, methinks.

Then it was time to deposit the two sturdy singers at their house before returning  to Castle Leutgeb mansion a few miles away where Mr and Mrs Leutgeb senior had laid the table and got the dinner sorted out, as is their want.  It's just as well I have other things to do, beause the Christmas Dinner cooking thing is theirs.

Yes, there is a camel on the window sill behind my brother.  He (the camel, clearly, )has til a week on Friday to get to the lounge.

A glut of tipples

A kind parishoner gives the choir a bottle of sherry every Christmas. The trouble is that last year's bottle is still in the cupboard.  My fault. By my calculations a New Year's Resolution to offer it around a bit could mean we manage to make a dent in both bottles before next Christmas. 

Getting music into the cupboard without bringing a stack of stuff including tins of Quality Street onto you is hard enough.  Multiplying bottles of sherry are another hazard entirely.

In other festive news the Co-op at Sidcup Station has Cream Eggs on its shelves.

Happy Christmas

and Nadolig Llawen.

A Christmas birthday

Christmas Day has slight add on for me because it is also my birthday.

It wasn't supposed to be so, I was due on Jan 14th, but I had the cord round my neck three times and went into a bit of foetal distress, they think, and there we are.  The cord thing led in the end to an emergency caesarian for my mother. This being a while ago she only found that out when she had my brother 3 years later. There were several unfortunate twists to the story involving tipsy doctors being cabbed in and the fact that it snowed heavily, but despite weighing a small 5lbs 13 oz, I was fine.

What you gain with a Christmas birthday is a uniquely cool feast day, a great day with the family and double presents, oh yes.  The double presents thing was great as a child. As an adult, a day with the family when really no-one does anything except sit around, talk, cook and eat and laugh is the thing.

What you learn pronto is that the world does not revolve around you, because of course your birthday is always totally eclipsed by the day that it is, as it should be.  There are lean times and quite a few, 'I forgot it was your birthday...' over the years and you know who you are, the people who write, 'and Happy Birthday,' on Christmas cards, but who is to say that other people's birthdays are always remembered anyway?