100 Views

Happy Christmas Everyone!

It is with great joy that today I celebrate not just the reminder that God is here, but also the fact that this is my 100th blog post. Now I know in the great scheme of all things blog that isn't really much of an achievement, but it is a milestone for me nontheless!

Here's how it all started:

Views from a Coffeehouse

And just to give you a little taste of what you might have missed, here are 5% of the postings that have various levels of meaning to me:

Seeing a Bigger Picture

Postmodern Vampirism

Cafe 101

Keep Left

Wanting to be Celtic


Please also check out the blogs of friends who stop by for coffee in the links over on the right.


"God saw all that he had made [including the coffee bean] and it was very good."
Genesis 1:31

Coffee and Porridge

Yesterday I visited The High School (where I regularly lead morning assemblies) to look around their Fairtrade Fair. It was brilliant! I must also admit that I really liked the fact that so many of the students said hello to me - "Hey look! It's the Salvation Army man" - which is a great ego boost that makes you feel good.

As a supporter of the movement for Fairtrade, I was really pleased to see the school so well involved in setting up stands selling Fairtrade goods - and it wasn't just tea, coffee and bananas! The was a great range of different foods - biscuits, cereal, juices, pasta, jams, Christmas cake - all ensuring that the producers got paid a fair and livable wage which can transform a community. (Can you think of an easier way to make a difference in the world? It's literally a piece of cake!) There was also loads of gifts, toys and craft items. If you didn't make it to the fair you can find them at Oxfam.

Of course, there was plenty of coffee for sale!

One table that caught my eye was selling bowls of uncooked porridge. I soon learned that it was fundraising for an HIV/AIDS related scheme in Zimbabwe called the Matilda Project. This project provides home based care for sufferers of this dreadful disease, but it also raises money for work with AIDS orphans and provides a nutritional breakfast for these children. I was only too happy to buy a bowl of porridge which I will later cook and serve to my family as we pray for those who suffer.

I discovered two bonuses from stopping at the porridge table. One was that N. who served me said she reads my blog (Hello, N.!) And the other is that one of the recipients of the money raised in this project is an orphanage run by The Salvation Army.

So well done to The High School for an excellent initiative. Although not all of you may realize, I believe that in highlighting the need for justice and promoting compassion you connected yourself with the mission of God.

Garibaldi

I needed to go into the city centre of Dublin to pick up a few things so I took my three year old daughter along with me. For the most part she was very good and I really enjoyed the time with her. However, there was one small incident where she broke a toy and refused to say sorry to the sales person - despite my threat that there would be no snack if she didn't apologise. She held her ground.

Fortunately we were in a Christian bookshop and the sales person said that my daughter was forgiven.

Walking down the street form the bookshop I noticed a small coffee bar that seemed quite new. A couple of things struck me about the place. It was called Garibaldi which may have been in reference to the Italian military hero who was influential in bringing about a unified Italy. However it made my think of a favourite biscuit (cookie) of mine when I was young - also called Garibaldi and voted Biscuit of the Week in February 2002(!)

The other thing that struck me was seeing a fresh cream cake in the window and an almost desperate need for a cup of coffee. I quickly reneged on my threat about a snack and enjoyed a latte and cake sitting on a stool with my daughter enjoying her juice and dotty cookie.

I may in the future pay for such slap-dash parenting standards as this. But for today, I'm OK with it.

Creme Bruleé

Purely for the sake of my blog I picked up a Creme Bruleé latte from Starbucks tonight.

Just as expected:

Yuck!

I didn't even drink a quarter of it as it got progressively sweeter and more sickly with every sip. Don't let me put you off though.

Actually, do. I've been writing about Starbucks too much lately and need to stop giving them so much free ad space.

However, you may want to experiment with the phrase 'creme bruleé', said in its intended french accent. For years this has proved a sufficient form of expletive or statement of shock with a slightly sophisticated edge to it. Try it.

Creme bruleé!


Hey, Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Our dessert of choice is going to be my wife's homemade pecan pie. Now that will go great with a regular latte.

Creme bruleé!

Spirit of Christmas

One of the girls in our teen group mentioned on Sunday how she likes the red mugs that Starbucks bring out for Christmas. I agree.

Fairplay to the design and marketing team of the coffee chain, they do choose good colours. The promotional boards in the store, the cups for sale, the menu board and the paper cups have a red quality to them which just seems very Christmasy - even in early November. I think I would describe the colour as a deep, warm cranberry hue. The cups for take-out also come with a cardboard sleeve in a complementary mint green colour. Add to that the white lettering and I think I can hear jolly old St Nick on his way for a double espresso pick-me-up.

And along with colour change are a few changes to the menu. On offer this time of year is the return of old favourites: Gingerbread latte, Toffee nut latte, and the Eggnog latte which I experienced last year. New this year is the bizarre Creme Bruleé latte - we all know the dangers of the hot coffee lurking under the milky foam of a latte so I sure hope they don't also take a mini blowtorch to the top of this creation. I'll give it a try anyway and report back.

However, one change I noticed was decidedly against the Christmas spirit. More like Scrooge in fact. The price of drinks have gone up!! (Do red cups really cost that much more?)

As I have some readers from different parts of the world I'd like to do a quick comparison to see if this is another case of Rip Off Ireland. My tall latte cost 3 euro. I make the approximate equivalent to be:

US $4.38
UK £2.12

Forget rising oil prices. I can walk to the coffeehouse. But will I be able to afford a drink when I get there?

Please use this little experiment as an excuse to stop what you are doing right now and go out to Starbucks, bask in its redness and attempt to drink a foul sounding coffee - just make a note of the price of a tall latte while you are there, please.

Where's the Passion?

I don't want you to think that I spend all day, everyday sitting in cafes listening to people's conversations, but...

What I overheard this evening grabbed my attention and for a moment - just long enough to draw in a deep breath - I felt as if God was saying, "I'm talking to you."

I started reading an excellent book by Michael Frost entitled Exiles: Living missionally in a post-Christian culture. I'm sure I will share some of the thoughts with you at some point. The author presents challenges to the reader in the context of societies that have lost connection with the Christian story (predominantly through a disconnection with Church and Christendom structures - hence the feeling of Christians living in exile). The challenge is a return to living out the radical, dangerous, loving, generous, subversive, compassionate life of Jesus.

And so this is what I overheard coming from the table across from me where four men, in their early thirties, sat talking:

"Jesus Christ....something something something....Jesus....murmur....Jesus Christ....mumble mumble....Christ."

It's funny how your ears re-tune to a particular direction when you hear the name of someone you love. I soon discovered that these guys were talking about Mel Gibson films and happened to briefly discuss his film from a couple of years ago, The Passion of the Christ. It was just after one of them gave his critique of the film that I had my moment:

"I just found it dull"

(!)

"Don't get me wrong. It wasn't the subject matter. It was the way it was portrayed."

(Deep breath)


As a follower of Jesus, what is my portrayal of the subject matter I have dared to dedicate my whole being to?


Moments later, as I thought about that question, the next track of a George Michael album played in the background - a love song dedicated to a deceased lover of the musician that echoed a tender (and yet, I suppose, still radical) nature of Jesus.

Overheard in Starbucks

While waiting in line for some coffee, two women behind me were talking. Fortunately it was loud enough for me to hear some of it.

"I love coffee, but it makes me all shaky."

I was curious what kind of coffee she drinks and whether they serve it at Starbucks. Then the other one said,

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like I'm 28."

This particularly got my attention so I leaned back a little to find out why it was so terrible to feel like someone who is 28 (quite a specific feeling, wouldn't you say?). The answer: because she is only 23!

So many thoughts went through my head...

Boy in the Window

Every morning I go through a ritual. It is not of my own choosing, but I've been doing it for a while now so I guess I'm just used to it.

Some time in the morning (usually too early) I hear one of my young children wake up. This is my cue to go downstairs, get two cups of milk, return upstairs and bring both my 18 month old son and 3 year old daughter into our room in the hope that while they drink their milk I and my wife can close our eyes for another couple of minutes. It doesn't always work.

This morning, post ritual, I lay in bed and heard my son say, "law-ee". There is always great excitement when the sound of a lorry can be heard, particularly when it is the bin lorry. The persistent cry of "law-ee, law-ee" made me get out of bed and take my son to the window where I picked him up so he could see the bins of rubbish being loaded into the lorry and watch it drive down the street.

They say that God cares about the everyday stuff of life and that, far from being a distant entity, God proved that he was actively involved in life through the person of Jesus Christ, experiencing the everyday stuff that we all experience.

This afternoon, on my way to a coffee shop to study, I walked past the meeting place of the Legion of Mary - a house named St Joseph's on a busy corner of the main road. I walk past this building most days, but today I noticed something I had not seen before. (Perhaps it has been there a while???) In one of the windows was a large statue of Joseph holding a young Jesus.

Perhaps the Marian legionaries think of this statue as providing some sort of blessing for those who pass. But today I smiled as I saw Joseph holding his boy up to the window to watch the lorries drive down the street.

Midnight Coffee

Having two small children means that we don't go out an awful lot in the evenings - babysitters are expensive! So it's rare for me to be out late at night except for the occasional dash to the video store before they close in the hopes that I won't get a late fine. But when I do happen to be out late (ish) I'm always amazed at how busy it is in our "urban village" of Rathmines in Dublin.

For a while I've been meaning to go out for a cup of coffee late at night just to see what is going on. So last night I took advantage of the clocks going back an hour to go out for coffee at midnight.

I decided to go to Eddie Rockets, one of a chain of faux American 1950's diners at 21st century Ireland prices. I knew they would be open late because I had previously seen a sign in the window giving some lame reason why they had to charge extra after midnight.

I sat at a stool at the bar (of course, why wouldn't you?) and ordered a cup of coffee. I was pleased to see they served Fairtrade. The staff were wearing uniforms appropriate for the theme of the restaurant complete with a hat that sported their cutesy slogan, Eat and Get Out! I only counted six staff. Two chefs, two waitresses, a dishwasher and a manager. 100% foreign nationals - the norm for the service industry in Ireland today.

The restaurant was actually quieter than I hoped it would be. A small group of teenage lads huddled around a bowl of fries, a man staggered in drunk but caused no trouble, and a me at the bar writing things down in my notebook. One of the waitresses looked like she really didn't want to be there and the other one yawned - she told the junior chef that she was tired. Tired everyday. And for a while some of the staff talked about their struggle with learning the English language.

I decided to stay a little while longer and ordered a second cup of coffee - partly to see if anything interesting happened and partly to see whether they provided free refills in coffee. It didn't really and they don't. I think I shall write to Mr Rocket and ask why a basic tenet of American dinerism is not provided.

Soon a girl and her boyfriend came in and decided to stay to eat rather than return to their apartment. She has obviously come out in her pyjamas which might seem odd to some, but was actually the third girl I had seen out and about in their p.j.s that day.

All in all it was a bit unremarkable. But, for me, this was in itself sort of interesting. An hour spent watching ordinary lives, but taking time to notice something about them. I tried to picture their faces again as I walked home praying for them.

I left the diner wondering a number of things about culture, assimilation, working night shifts and what the other people would do after they left the restaurant. But I mostly wondered how staff could put up with working in an environment that played 50's music all day every day. And I wondered if I was going to have trouble going to sleep when I got home.

Cafe Coombe

I don't go to Cafe Coombe very much.

The first time was when I went to The Coombe Hospital with my wife for the ultrasound scan of our first child.

The second time I went was for the ultrasound scan of our second child.

I went to Cafe Coombe again today...

Swanning Around

Every two years the denomination whom I am a minister in (The Salvation Army) hold a conference for the 1,400+ people in "full-time" ministry. While my wife and I work as partners in ministry only one of us could attend because of our young children. I drew the short straw...and had to go.

My dad was also attending so I took the opportunity to fly over to Bournemouth and drive with him up to the conference centre in Swanwick, Derbyshire. I enjoyed the drive for a couple of reason. First, because I am rarely the passenger in long car journeys so I was able to sleep a little. Second, it was a nice opportunity to learn a little family history - particularly my dad's childhood.

We took a break on the way up and stoped at a motorway service area to get a cup of coffee. As we walked in, who should be walking out but my brother-in-law also on his way to the conference! (Are you sensing a family business?)

I won't bore you with the details of what I thought was a disappointing conference. I don't tend to use this blog to evaluate particular areas of ministry within The Salvation Army - if you're interested in people who do you might find some here. Suffice to say, for me the best part was skipping out of an evening session to go out for coffee (and treacle pudding) with my dad and brother-in-law where we spent a couple of hours evaluating particular areas of Salvation Army ministry.

They're Back

Most coffeeshops nowadays will have even a small selection of syrup flavourings to put in your coffee. I can't abide them. Partly because they promote the creation of very strange flavours of coffee - I was once in an M&S Cafe Revive with my dad and he was persuaded by a very persistent coffee girl to add a shot of orange flavour syrup to his cappuccino (yuck! yuck! yuck!) - but also because I don't have sugar in my coffee so I don't like any sweetener added. (I also went through a phase of no milk either, but I'm over that now except for the occasional early morning kick start).

However, I will happily have a sweet accompaniment - a danish, a cookie, or a muffin. Of course, you can't beat a bar of chocolate, and for years, in my opinion, you couldn't beat a Cadbury's Wispa. Then they just disappeared from our shelves. Just like the Gambit bar (half milk chocolate, half dark - anyone remember that?), the Wispa seemed destined to never be enjoyed again.

I bet you can guess where I'm going with this.

A few days ago as I was walking down the street my eye caught a glimpse of a dark blue wrapper with red and gold lettering. A Wispa? Can't be? Where did that come from? Has there been a whole in the space-time continuum (whatever that means) and an empty wrapper has floated into existence? Rushing to the nearest sweet shop (a much better word than convenience store when reminiscing about childhood things) I scanned the racks of chocolate in the vain hope that something wonderful should appear. Alas, no.

I thought it best to explain to the shopkeeper what I was searching for so I didn't look stupid. And then - joy of joys - the reply came that indeed Cadbury's had come to their senses and relaunched the Wispa! Their stock had sold out within hours and it would be a few days until they returned.

Today was that day. Wispa was in stock. I bought three just to be on the safe side.

Immediately my mind went back to my schoolboy days of the mid eighties. Coming home from school I would make a cup of coffee (I guess I did start young) and enjoy the Wispa that I had bought from the school tuck shop. (I bet they don't even have tuck shops in schools anymore, tut). The whole experience being rounded off with some watching Philip Schofield in a broom cupboard.


By the way, Wispas also work well with tea.

By the way again, Cadbury are only dong a limited run to see if this most excellent of chocolate bars is still viable. Perhaps tomorrow I'll buy three more. Maybe you should too.

Lessons in Community

This afternoon I managed to get away to a coffeeshop for an hour to do some studying. I'm on the last leg of my (procrastinated) distance learning degree in Theology. All I have to work on now is my dissertation. I've chosen for my subject, 'What does it mean to be a community church in the 21st Century?' No doubt you'll hear more about this between now and the February deadline.

So I sat at my preferred table at the back with a latte and a four berry muffin and worked my way through a stack of books, dipping in here and there for sections that would be helpful to return to and read more fully. At one point I stopped what I was doing and looked around at the other cafe dwellers - this is why I have a preferred table - and noticed an interesting phenomenon. Almost all the tables were occupied, but it was all people on their own. What was more interesting was that everyone had sat on the side of their table where they could face everyone else. No one had their back turned to another.

So as I and my company sat there reading books, doing newspaper crosswords, texting, and drinking coffee I was struck by the question, why are we here? (Not an existentialist examination of life of course. I'm talking about our presence in the coffeeshop). Everything that was individually going on within that space could have easily been done elsewhere in complete solitude.

I wondered if what I was experiencing was a desire for community. Perhaps, collectively, we sensed some sort of connection with one another, a common act of being together and drinking coffee, a type of communion - all be it a false, unrealised one.

I wondered if there were others present who, like me, would have been happy to put down their book/newspaper/phone to interact and talk about something. Anything! But that would have taken effort.

So I learned my first (obvious) lesson about community without reading it in a book, but experiencing it in life: in order for community to occur it needs more than just desire. It needs inertia.

Mist and Mellow Fruit

For some time now we, as a family, have been meaning to go back to St Annes's Park. So today, waking to a blue October sky, we headed across to the north side of the city. We were not disappointed.

Within the Red Stables courtyard of the park a Farmers Market is held every Saturday. I love farmers markets. There are always little pieces to try for free - cheeses, fruit cakes, olive oils, pesto... And there is always a coffee stand set up. As I queued for a drink I had time to savour the smells of the various coffee beans for sale. There were about eight half-barrels containing beans from around the world inviting me to plunge my hand in and retrieve a handful of beans to savour the smell. Intoxicating! (I wondered if the people behind me thought that I should use the scoop provided, but that would be missing out on half of the sensory experience.) I've told you before that, if available, I will support coffee growers from Ethiopia so I opted for a fairtrade blend that did just that.

As my young children looked at the stall with the handmade wooden toys I feasted my eyes on the fruit and veg stalls - carrots with dirt on, apples of all hues, red onions, purple cauliflower and varieties of pumpkin I have never seen before, all combining to form a deliciously sweet smell that you could taste in your nose and throat. (I should have got a bottle of the pressed apple juice.)

Leaving the courtyard, laden with coffee, pear and cinnamon muffins, and the prospect of returning for lunch, we strolled through the trees to a really excellent wooden playground.

Across to my left a church bell struck its chords from within its fire-red ivy-clad tower. Ahead of me a mid-morning haze caused the golden, autumnal sun to cut through the trees in visible shafts.

This is why I love the Autumn best.

(John Keats does a better job of describing it than me.)

On the Radio

I was a special guest on a local radio show today. I say 'today', but it was recorded live to be broadcast on Sunday.

I've done some stuff on radio and TV a couple of times before with other people, but it has always been with a script. Today was just me and the presenter with no script so I was a bit nervous. Fortunately there was a Starbucks just meters away so I was able to grab a coffee before we got started. I also blatantly ignored the signs and took the drink into the studio with me. It helped.

It was just a half hour piece where I was interviewed about The Salvation Army and my role in it, and also about my Christian faith. I was also asked to choose three songs to play. For various reasons I chose:

The Hymn, 'Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven'
A track by Coldplay, 'A Message'
And finally, 'You led me to the cross' by Matt Redman. We only got about 45 seconds of that one before it was faded out because of time. Never mind.

Unfortunately the radio station is only a small, community based project that doesn't have the capacity to listen online. So unless you are going to be somewhere in the region of south Dublin on Sunday at 5:30pm you won't be able to hear it. If I can get a copy of the programme I'll try and podcast it, but don't hold your breath as I have no idea how to do that! (Suggestions, anyone?)

Too Hot

Poor Steve. He got his tounge burnt.

Been there. Done that...twice this week.

Oh, To Be in Tullamore in September

I regularly go along to a couple of our homeless centres to lead morning prayers. This morning I headed for the Granby Centre which is across the other side of the city from where I live. If I'm in anyway organised I leave with plenty of time to get through the notorious Dublin traffic. Today was one of those days - but for some reason the traffic was lighter than usual.

(I suspect everyone is in Tullamore.)

Approaching my destination I passed a Spar convenience store and a sign outside for Tim Horton's Donuts caught my eye! I've told you before that I'm a sucker for donuts and Horton's are a great import from Canada. For me, they rank up there with Dunkin' Donuts, but still just a smidge lower than Krispy Kreme - these later two currently unavailable in Ireland :-(

Noticing that time was on my side I swiftly pulled over and went for a Boston Creme. There was also an automatic coffee machine with the selection of sweet, sweet nuts of dough. Naturally, I pressed the button marked 'Regular Latte'. I was pleasantly surprised at how good the coffee was - better than some served by so called baristas, especially the ones who where a long black cloak and where a silly wig!

I returned to my car a sat for a few moments enjoying this unexpected delight. The world just seems a better place when you have coffee and donuts in the car.

Turning on the car radio I listened to a news article from the popular National Ploughing Championships in Tullamore, Co. Offaly. Attendees were being asked why they come to the show yer after year. Here's my favourite answer: "I like tractors. And cows."

:-)

Preparing for Take Off

Chemical asked for advice about where to get a good cup of coffee while traveling through Dublin Airport. Great question.

Airports can be stressful, highly-strung locations. You'll need to relax. The only thing that helps in a situation like that for cooling you down, lowering your heart rate and stopping you from needing to use the on board facilities mid-flight is a large cup of fully charged caffeine. Wait. Scratch that idea. That's useless advice. Try this:

Let's start with getting to the airport. If you're driving down the motorway from Northern Ireland (don't forget tolls in euro only) there's actually no where on the road to stop. The ever expanding route of the M1 is great, but as of yet no motorway services. I travel this road quite frequently and have yet to find somewhere decent to stop, occasionally opting for the Half Door just at the border (ROI side).

If you are travelling by train I'm not much help. I've only done it once and was served instant coffee - bleh! However, the train does take you into the city centre (practically) and there are loads of coffee shops around. I might recommend O'Brien's Coffee on Abbey Street (The LUAS from the station will take you there) although there a plenty of independent cafes hidden about - seek and ye shall find.

At the airport there are a few choices. On the mezzanine floor above check-in there is an O'Brien's, but I find it a bit hit-and-miss. Probably the best option is the Bewleys Cafe on the mezz although that whole area is always really busy. (I'm not sure if there are any dedicated Bewley's Cafes left anywhere else. Shame. I kind of miss the Oriental on Grafton Street - it's now a restaurant.) There are a collection of Cafe Ritazzas scattered around the airport, but they always seem to make the coffee incredibly hot which means you either can't finish it before going through security or take-off! I think there is a Nude cafe somewhere (dress code optional). They serve Fairtrade coffee.

After going through security (will you have to remove your shoes today?) you could try out Butlers Chocolate Cafe. I have a friend who raves about Butlers. I wasn't quite so impressed with the over priced latte, but I shouldn't really judge their whole chain by one visit to an airport branch. That said, you do get a "complimentary" hand made chocolate with every drink so that may swing it for you.

If you are one of those people who gets to the airport with loads of time to spare (beware - security at Dublin can be long and slow) you could always pop down the road to the Inca Coffee Lounge at the Crowne Plaza Hotel, or the brand new Bewley's Hotel. I dare you to risk taking the shuttle bus just for coffee!!

As for drinking coffee on the plane I've yet to have a decent cup of coffee at 30,000 feet anywhere in the world and I certainly would not bring myself to pay for the privilege - rip-off no frills airlines.

So anyway, I could have made this all a lot simpler by just posting this link to the list of cafes in Dublin Airport, but it has been fun thinking about the different options.

Let me know what you choose when you're there and if it was any good. I have a very early flight in a couple of weeks and will certainly need a reliable fix.

Return to Malahide

I went back to Malahide today to do the street collecting on the right day this time.

Last week when I wasn't meant to be there the sun was shining and someone gave me three umbrellas. This week when I was meant to be there....

Anyway, I took a coffee break in an independent cafe and sat at a table outside. My latte was nicely presented in a tall glass cup with a handle (I don't like it when they put coffee in a glass that could otherwise be used for a coke. Unless of course they do that fancy thing of tying a serviette around the glass so you don't burn your fingers). Unfortunately it wasn't very tasty.

However, there did seem to be a tasty bit of gossip going on at the table next to me. Complaining about someone and how they work. Or something like that. I couldn't quite make out everything they were saying and I think pushing my coffee away then leaning to the other side of the table to reach it was starting to look obvious. I left them to it safe in the knowledge that they probably were not talking about me.

So here's an ethical/moral/spiritual question: If it is wrong to gossip about someone, is it just as wrong to listen to it even if you don't know any of the people involved? (And, um, is it wrong to listen in to someone in a public place anyway?)

Malahide

Every year The Salvation Army does a stint of collecting funds from the public to help run its social service work. Here in Dublin the money is raised for our four excellent homeless centers. We work together as a group to do collections in some shopping areas around greater Dublin. One of those areas is a lovely little town called Malahide just to the north of the city, an hour or so from were we live. Every year I go to Malahide I think to myself that I should come back again one day just to visit and enjoy one of their cafes.

Arriving in the town today I parked the car then made my way to the post where we usually stand. No other collectors were around so I searched a few streets, but to no avail. A quick phone call to one of the people organising the collecting revealed that I wasn't supposed to be there until next week!

Eejit!

I figured there was no point in jumping straight back in the car for another hour long drive across heavy traffic so I went in search of coffee. I soon noticed a new addition to the outlets of caffeine. Can you guess who it is?

Part of me thinks it is particularly sad to want to boast the claim of visiting all the Starbucks in Ireland - and yet I'm drawn in. (10 of 13 so far. Cork airport is going to prove a little tricky)

While I sat and enjoyed a latte and flick through the paper one of the staff was doing the rounds of the tables with a handful of umbrellas. It would seem that a number of people had left their brollys and hadn't returned to claim them so he was giving them away to whoever wanted them. Everyone said no. (Out of embarrassment? Afraid of where it's been? I'm sure some interesting sociological study could be done to explain people's reaction). Anyway, the guy finally got to me and I said I'd take them for our homeless centres thereby justifying my premature trip to Malahide.


Another opportunity to try a different cafe next week!

Cloudscape

As I ordered a cup of coffee this evening the barista at Starbucks said they would be closing in about 15 mins, but there was no rush and I could stay a while. It proved good advice.

I took a recently vacated seat next to a window. Outside was a small lane with a low wall allowing me a clear view across the wide street opposite the store. My gaze lifted up and became entranced for a moment by the scene in the sky.

I returned to my book and read half a page before putting it down again. The words would still be there later. The cloudscape wouldn't.

I don't know the scientific name for the clouds that had formed, but that didn't seem in the slightest bit important. They just stretched off into the distance with patches of brilliant blue revealed then hidden as the scene shifted miles above my head.

The clouds were expertly lit by The Director of Photography. This evening, he surely was painting with light. The shades in the pre-sunset sky seemed to call out, 'I'll give you one more show today if you stop and look.' The balance of light and shade brought out the full dimensions of the clouds with a warmth of colour that I don't know how to describe except a graceful splatter of rich, creamy vanilla ice cream. That yellow kind that they make in the quality dairies of Devon.

Delicious.

And then the light faded and it was gone. A unique piece of artwork. Just for me?

Dragon's Rest

Driving home from a miserable holiday (don't ask. It involves lots of vomit!) we stopped at a cafe in North Wales as we headed for the boat back over to Ireland.

The 'Dragon's Rest' is a quaint cafe serving the usual sort of toasted sandwiches, jacket potatoes and cooked breakfasts that are typical of roadside eateries. Their marketing ploy of painting CAFE in huge letters on the roof obviously worked on us as we clearly saw it from the road and pulled off. We sat upstairs and admired the view: beautiful rolling hills with flecks of white that I presumed were sheep.

Following lunch I ordered a latte to take away with me - although they called it a 'milky coffee' which, I suppose, is an accurate English translation of cafe latte. While paying for my coffee I asked what the story was regarding a couple of posters they had on the wall petitioning to 'Stop the Truck Stop'. Apparently there are plans afoot to transform my polka dot hill into a big restaurant and shops.

The good folks of the Dragon's Rest and other concerned local citizens are not taking the idea lightly and started a blog to provide updates as to what is happening and what you can do. You can read about it here. Although the deadline for raising objections passed a few weeks ago I will continue to stop by their blog every now and then to see how the story unfolds.

So raise your milky coffee with me and say, "Power to the people".

Art Imitating Life?

As I sat in the coffeehouse this evening reading about people who attempt to sustain a Christian life outside of a congregation the music playing in the background was Bon Jovi (probably a greatest hits album). Wouldn't you know it?, the track that played as I was reading was 'Keep the Faith'!

It made me wonder if anyone in the band came from a religious background. After all, one of their best know hits was 'Livin' on a Prayer'. ("Woohaaa, we're half way there", - come on, sing it - "Whoohaa, livin' on a prayer..."

That said, I don't think the next song that was played, 'Lay Your Hands on Me', has much to do with what St Paul was writing about.

The person with the power of the CD remote control obviously didn't like that song as it stopped half way through. Perhaps it was too sensual for them. Or maybe too spiritual. Or perhaps just too loud.

Proclamation of Love

The summer of 2007 in Dublin has been pretty miserable as far as weather is concerned. I would have to check official records (which I won't), but my guess is that since late May there has not been more than 48 hours when it hasn't rained. So this afternoon, noticing blue skies, we went out for a family walk. Despite being dry this mid August afternoon felt more like it belonged in late September, but undeterred we went for a walk along a short section of the Grand Canal. The coolness in the air permitted the purchase of a coffee to stroll with as I and my wife and two small children meandered along this straight stretch of waterway.

Normally I start to get frustrated when walking with my kids. My long legs and sense of purpose don't always match up to shorter legs and inquisitive minds. This afternoon, however, I didn't mind. The sun was sparkling on the rippling water, a gentle breeze shussssshhed the tall, bankside reeds and there was no hurry. We had nowhere to get to and plenty of time to go there. It was one of those moments. My lovely family.

There are plenty of benches to sit on take in this scene of urban tranquility so it is no wonder that on one bench a lover had written, 'This is where I made my first proclamation of love'. A little further down the route there is a more permanent display of love and life and literary expression. It is a sculpture of the Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh who often sought inspiration and rest on the banks of the Grand Canal. Beside the bench is the inscription, 'Leafy-with-love banks and the green waters of the canal pouring redemption for me.'

Here is the poem in full:

Canal Bank Walk
Patrick Kavanagh

Leafy-with-love banks and the
green waters of the canal
Pouring redemption for me, that I do
The will of God, wallow in the habitual, the banal,
Grow with nature again as before I grew.
The bright stick trapped, the breeze adding a third
Party to the couple kissing on an old seat,
And a bird gathering materials for the nest for the Word
Eloquently new and abandoned to its delirious beat.
O unworn world enrapture me, encapture me in a web
Of fabulous grass and eternal voices by a beech,
Feed the gaping need of my senses, give me ad lib
To pray unselfconsciously with overflowing speech
For this soul needs to be honoured with a new dress woven
From green and blue things and arguments that cannot be proven.

Coffeehouse For Sale

My local coffeehouse, Moda, is for sale if you're interested in buying it. Unfortunately I'm several hundred thousand too short to buy it myself.

I hope it's taken on by someone who wants to keep it running as a coffeehouse. Despite times where I have begun to dislike the place (I've had some really bad lattes served to me - which I sent back) I do also quite like it (I've had some really good lattes - which I kept).

What I do particularly like is that it stays open late. Hopefully that will continue because Starbucks around here close at 8pm!

Wanting to be Celtic

Whenever people ask me where I am from I usually give a round about answer that starts with my birth in London an swiftly progresses around the world to stops across England, Wales, America and Ireland, where I am right now.

I like living in Ireland. I feel a sense of some sort of connection here although I'm not sure what I mean by that. Although born in England to an English father, my mother was from Northern Ireland. I don't know if she would have called herself Irish (she died when I was 12). My guess is, being a 'protestant' from Portadown more than likely persuaded her to be 'British'. However, my family name is from the Isle of Man and, according to the book I was reading this evening, having a Manx heritage gives me a connection with the Celtic heritage which I am growing to love.

The books I usually take to the coffeehouse are often about church or theology or contemporary Christian mission. This evening I took A Celtic Miscellany. It's a lovely book with extracts of(mostly ancient) Celtic writing from Irish, Welsh, Scottish Gaelic, Cornish, Breton and Manx authors. It was great for dipping in to and I'll be taking it for another trip to the coffeehouse again soon.

The writing is wonderfully descriptive making you wish you could place yourself in the scene that has been painted with such delicious words. Take for example this description of an Irish hermit's hut from 1000 years ago:

I have a hut in the wood, none knows it but my Lord;
an ash tree this side, a hazel on the other, a great tree on a mound encloses it.

Two heathery door-posts for support, and a lintel of honeysuckle;
around its close the wood sheds its nuts upon the fat swine...

Excellent fresh springs - a cup of water, splendid to drink - they gush forth abundantly;
yew berries, bird-cherries...

A clutch of eggs, honey, produce of heath peas, God has sent it;
sweet apples, red bog-berries, whortleberries.

Beer with herbs, a patch of strawberries, delicious abundance;
haws, yew berries, kernels of nuts.

A cup of mead from goodly hazel-bush, quickly served;
brown acorns, manes of briar, with fine blackberries.

In summer with its pleasant, abundant mantle, with good-tasting
savour, there are pignuts, wild marjoram, the cresses of the stream - green purity!

Swarms of bees, beetles, soft music of the world...

A beautiful pine makes music to me, it is not hired;
through Christ, I fare no worse at any time than you do.

Beautiful, just beautiful

I like to keep a pen and some paper in my car wherever I go. Mostly it just for leaving notes in my window to let the clampers know that the parking meter is not working (so please don't clamp me again!)

Sometimes I use the paper to jot down a thought that I have or the name of some music I just heard on the radio while driving. A couple of months ago, as I was driving one evening to do the grocery shopping, I heard a song on RTE2fm called Space Walk by a band called Lemon Jelly. The song samples a recording of an astronaut going on a spacewalk and watching the sunrise over Earth. Throughout is a refrain of the spacewalker describing the scene as, 'Beautiful, just beautiful'. I liked the sound of it so I jotted it down at the next red light.

Last week I signed up to emusic for some mp3 downloads. They're doing an offer where you can have a trial for two weeks and download and keep 25 tracks for free (regardless of whether you stay on a a member). I've been a bit disappointed by not being able to find some of the songs that I initially wanted so I may just take my freebies and run. However, they did have the Lemon Jelly song so I got that. It's great. I really recommend you getting a copy. It's one of those songs that make you nod your head in rhythm and smile.


Yesterday my wife and I got a babysitter and went to a movie. Before we went to the cinema we went for coffee and dessert in a cafe in the Italian quarter of Dublin. There's some nice looking cafes there that I'll go back to visit again. As it would happen, the name of the cafe we went to was Lemon Jelly.

Anyway, all of this is just to say to my wife that when we walk down the rain soaked streets of Dublin on a summer evening I can't help but nod my head, smile and think, 'beautiful, just beautiful.'

Homeless Guy

Returning a DVD (3 days late) to the rental shop in Ranelagh, I decided to stay in the area to go to a coffeehouse I hadn't been to for a while. On my way to Coffee Society I passed a homeless man bundled up and leaning against a postbox. Not an unusual sight and almost easy to ignore with a little inward justification.

I walked a few meters further along the road when I heard a voice (mine? God's?) tell me to go back and ask the guy if he wanted a cup of coffee. He said he'd like a cup of tea so I was happy to oblige.

We spent a while chatting, initially about the book he was reading - one of three weighty novels he had recently purchased from a charity shop for a fiver, and then got on to talking a little about his past, his present situation and future hopes of returning to Vancouver. Although P. is from Ireland he has spent a good deal of his life in Canada where his family (including a son) still live. Too proud to admit that a run of unfortunate circumstances has put him on the streets he keeps his homeless status a secret in his monthly trans-Atlantic phone calls.

I wouldn't say that my encounter with P. was anything special for either of us, but I was struck by the fact that his eyes were clear, his speech made sense and wasn't full of fanciful tales, and he hadn't actually been asking people for money as they passed - he admitted to getting so engrossed in a book that he didn't realise the time passing.

It is very easy (and convenient) for me to judge that the homeless guy I see ahead of me as I walk along a street is there because he is either a drunk or a junkie.

Later in the coffeehouse, drinking a latte and reading a book about the inclusive ideal of church, I notice a woman placing an order for a smoothie and bagel who is wearing a t-shirt that says, 'Guilty until proven innocent'.

Hurling

I'm pleased to say that they serve Fairtrade coffee at Croke Park.

I'm also pleased to say that I visited Croke Park today for the first time.

And now I'll be pleased to tell you about it.

A few weeks ago, while the rest of my family were in the States, I spent a few days at a monastery - Glenstal Abbey. While I was there I got to know another guest visiting who is a priest serving on the north side of Dublin. In our conversations I told J. that one day I'd like to go to see a hurling match at Croker.

I got a call from J. this week to say he had tickets for today's game and invited me along.

It was great. A fantastic atmosphere that only a large sporting event can give. Over 70,000 fans shouting, screaming, heckling and clapping. I haven't been to a sports event like this since watching the Cleveland Indians more than five years ago.

The game of hurling is great. It's a sport native to Ireland with its roots in Irish mythology/history. I guess I would describe it as a much more fast paced and exciting version of field hockey - only the ball is sent flying through the air and you can catch it with your hands before whacking it tremendous distances (80+ meters) between the goal posts (which are a cross between soccer goals and rugby posts.)

It's a very fast paced game where if you blink you can miss something vital. Within three seconds the action can shift from one end of the field to the other. Don't step out for coffee because by the time you're back several points have been scored.

J. said he would try to get tickets for the All Ireland final in a few weeks. Here's a video clip from the final two years ago. Brilliant.

Coffee and Donuts

A year or two ago I heard a radio interview with the manager of a Dublin cinema. (It was the Savoy which I am ashamed to say I have yet to visit.) Part of the discussion revealed that cinemas make as much money on the popcorn, drinks, sweets, etc that is bought at the snack bars than they do on movie tickets. I'm sure this won't surprise you when you think about how much you pay for a Coke. What did surprise me though was the manager's open confession that you are allowed to bring your own food and drinks into the cinema. For years I had assumed that this wasn't allowed and had to resort to stuffing bags of malteasers in my pockets in the hopes of sneaking them in. Not now. Things have changed and I openly flaunt my previously made purchases as I hand my ticket to the door person.

Anyway, all this to say that before going to a movie last night I bought and cup of coffee and a couple of Tim Hortons donuts (now available in Tesco Ireland - yum!) and proudly took my seat to consume them. The film? The Simpsons Movie, of course.

It was okay. Not as many laugh-out-loud moments as I would have hoped. I liked the fact that Homer asks at the beginning of the film why anyone would pay to watch something they can get for free on TV.


Here's a trailer.

Here's a review and a whole bunch of reviews in one place.



A lot has been written in recent years about the connection between The Simpsons and the Christian faith. I won't add to that, but for what its worth here's one view if your interested.

Coffee as Sacrament

The particular branch of Christianity with which I am aligned holds a radical stance in its non-observance of Sacraments in worship (Why?) In other words, we do not practice such institutions as water baptism or Eucharist/Communion/Lord's Supper, et al.

So I smiled when I came across one person's view of the sacred nature of drinking coffee:

'Coffee has a long history as spiritual substance. Frederick Wellman, in Coffee: Botany, Cultivation, and Utilization, describes an African blood-brother ceremony in which "blood of the two pledging parties is mixed and put between the twin seeds of a coffee fruit and the whole swallowed."
Coffee in its modern form, as a hot, black beverage, was first used as a medicine, next as an aid to prayer and meditation by Arabian monastics, much as green tea is used by Zen monks in Japan to celebrate and fortify. Pilgrims to Mecca carried coffee all over the Moslem world. It became secularized, but the religious association remained. Some Christians at first were wont to brand coffee as "that blacke bitter invention of Satan," as opposed to good Christian wine, but in the sixteenth century Pope Clement VIII is said to have sampled coffee and given it his official blessing.'

I wonder if people realise what they are taking part in when they stay for the after-service tea/coffee on a Sunday morning?

Songs for the Journey

I just wandered up to my computer with a cup of coffee in my hand to discover an email from my brother-in-law. He has just started blogging. Take a look:

Songs for the Journey

Wild Geese

Tonight over coffee I read Steve Chalke's newest book, Intelligent Church. I only read the first chapter as I was slightly distracted (see below). However, I was struck by a short passage in the book which is a paraphrase of a story of Soren Kierkegaard.

Sorenn Kierkegaard, the famous Danish Christian philosopher, grew up in the countryside surrounded by farms that reared geese (among other animals). Each spring he would watch as a new gaggle of goslings was hatched and began to be fattened for the table. Over the course of their short lives these geese would gorge themselves at constantly refilled troughs of grain until they were so fat they could hardly walk. He imagined that they believed their lives to be perfect, as every need they had was catered in abundance.

When autumn came, the truth became apparent. The wild geese that had spent the warm summer months in Denmark would gather in preparation for their southerly migration. As they assembled to fly south they would circle in the skies above the farms, calling out to any stragglers to join in their flight. At this point the farmed geese would lift their heads from the feeding troughs and look into the skies, heeding the call of their wild cousins. For the first time in their lives they would become animated, running as best they could around their enclosures and attempting to fly. Of course, their gluttonous diet and life of luxury meant that they were far too fat to get airborne - but still they would try. And then, as quickly as the commotion had started, the wild geese would fly off and the fattened farm geese would watch them briefly before returning to their grain to continue eating their way to their deaths.

Kierkegaard's parable poses a powerful challenge to our local churches. Are we farmed geese or wild geese?

Is That Made Up?

I went to Moda tonight - the first time in a couple of months, I think. It's an okay coffeehouse, but I'm too often disappointed by the burnt taste of the latte. There are other coffee shops in the area, but they don't stay open as late as Moda (past midnight).

Anyway, I took a book to read, (see above) but I got a bit distracted by two women talking across from me. I don't usually listen in on conversations, but, and I think you'll agree with me, sometimes you can't help it. For me it was when one of them ordered a creme banana capuchino with soy milk.

Is that a made up drink?

Apparently not as something in a mug arrived a few minutes later.

The two of them talked about college days, shared break-up stories and frustrations of weight control. Then one of them noticed a painting on the wall. It was a golden triangle on a red background. It possibly means something, but I don't know what.

Then the exotic coffee lady got excited and took a photo of the painting because, and I kid you not here, she said that she collects pictures of triangles.

Is that a made up hobby?

Apparently not as she then pointed out that she was wearing a top with a triangle on it.

Later in their conversations I heard a word being used (or at least I think I heard it): "Communiverse".

Is that a made up word?

I'm not sure, but unlike the coffee and painting I like it.

Communiverse. I've not decided what it means yet, but I think it could be profound. Once I'm satisfied with a definition I'll try and use it in conversation some time.

A Regretful Coffee

Quite some time ago I wrote about a lovely couple of hours at The Village Cafe with someone I came to know. I had been meaning to meet again with D. and each time we saw one another we reminded each other that we must get together again.

I got the news yesterday that D., who had been suffering with cancer since before I knew him, had died. Now that opportunity has passed.

This afternoon I attended D.'s funeral. I was pleased that there was a good turn out, but I came away unsatisfied with the experience. While the priest made an effort to include a very brief biographical outline, the speed with which the prayers and readings flew by betrayed the fact that this was a ceremony that had been performed countless times before, and the half-mumbled recitations of the congregation seemed to be spoken out of habit - a good luck charm? I just wish the priest had slowed down to give us time to reflect on the life of D. and the supernatural transition which was being presented in the homily. I would have liked to have heard the beautiful and poignant words of John 14:1-7 read with much more grace and drama - much like D. would have done should he have been reading it for someone else.

So, following the service I went back to The Village Cafe, ordered a coffee and sat, where we had sat previously, taking some time to think about D. and the conversations and encounters that we shared.

My wife asked me if I felt guilty that I never got around to meeting up with D. again. I don't feel guilty, but I do regret it. I mustn't let opportunities and important moments like this pass by me again.


God bless you, D. Grace and Peace to you.

Smell the Coffee

My wife returned from the USA with a packet of one of my favourite coffees - Millstone Hazelnut flavour.

I also picked up a bag of coffee last week from the Farmers Market that is held on Saturdays in Meeting House Square, Temple Bar. It was from a small Irish roasting company called Ariosa. I think this might have been the most expensive bag of coffee I've ever bought (9 euro!), but as it was supporting local business and ethically sourced I didn't mind so much. Plus, it is a delicious blend. I think I'll grind some for church tomorrow.

Anyway, there is quite a collection of coffees in my cupboard at the moment which, combined with a couple of teas, makes for a really, lovely smell when you open the door. Mmmmmm.

Starbucks Closes

I guess someone doesn't like Starbucks and is prepared to do something about it:

Forbidden City Starbucks closes

Living in Tension

I wonder if you, like me, find yourself living in tension of who you are, what you believe and how you put those beliefs into action. I would guess that most of us experience this tension. I'm sure it's part of being human and doesn't just relate to those viewing life through the window of religion and spirituality. In fact, I'm sure there are multiple areas of tension in our lives - issues and standards that pull us one way or the other. Yes, the more I think about it there are definitely multiple areas. I wont list them all, but I will mention one.

If you haven't picked it up by now, let me confess something to you:

I like Starbucks.

For all I want to see justice and fairness in the world and maybe even take small steps away from globalization (certainly consumerism...he says, as he types away on his brand new computer), I do like Starbucks.

Just as an example of my paradoxical ways, yesterday I visited a local church because one of its members lives on our street. As I drove home I noticed a new Starbucks that had opened. I made a point of pulling a U turn (both in reality and symbolically?) and went in for some coffee. The store is located in one of the "more-well-to-do" areas of Dublin on the banks of the Grand Canal and, I have to say, I think I would class this as my favourite Starbucks store in Ireland. (I have a feeling that I'm just about keeping up with the small collection).

It's a good size, the usual comfortable chairs and wasn't too busy. They also have a basement area which would be a great meeting space for a discussion group or the occasional Brunch Church - I must ask my friends about that.

To give Starbucks some credit, they do sell Fairtrade coffee and seem to have some involvement in the local community. I wonder if I used Starbucks for some positive means (aside from personally enjoying coffee) whether that would help to ease the tension?

Black Gold

Yesterday my wife went off to the USA for a holiday with our two small children to visit family. I say 'holiday', but I'm sure the flight with two children under 3 years was anything but a holiday! (God bless you, J. I love you!)

That means that for the next two weeks I get to live the bachelor life again (more or less). The house is already a mess and I've eaten pizza for the last two evenings. I'm planing to watch a whole load of movies too - mostly ones that J. would find REALLY boring. (I have my eye on a Russian black and white classic from the silent era - Battleship Potemkin). So far I've watched four movies. Tonight's one was excellent.

I went to the Irish Film Institute to watch a movie called Black Gold. It's a documentary that highlights the plight of coffee growers in Ethiopia. These people work so hard and get paid an absolute pittance for their labours while we sit back and enjoy the coffee experience in some high market coffee establishment...or even a jar of instant (bleh!) at home. One kilo of coffee beans sells for less that $1, but by the end of the product (ie. that steaming espresso) that same kilo is worth over $100! Unfair trade rules mean the poor get poorer.

The documentary followed one man's struggle to sell the produce of his farmers co-operative in order to get a fair price for the beans. I've been a supporter of Fairtrade for some time now, but this movie made it more real. I'd like to get a copy of the film so if you don't get a chance to see it you'd be welcome to come over to my place, put a pot of coffee on, and watch it with me. It may stir your conscience. It made me cry.


The biggest reason for my wife to travel to America is to see two beautiful boys, A. and B., who have recently been adopted by my sister-in-law and her family. The boys are from Ethiopia which made tonight's film a little more poignant for me.

Sorry, Naomi

A few years ago a Canadian author named Naomi Klein wrote a book called No Logo. I managed to get through most of it.


Basically it is an in depth look at the crazy way that most of the West (and growing beyond) has become obsessed with stuff. Mostly high priced stuff. Mostly high priced stuff with a label on it that is supposed to make you feel good. Klein points out that many of the goods manufactured under a particular logo (not just clothes) are produced under exploitation of the workers. But, for Klein, the exploitation doesn't stop there. It continues on to exploit the consumer of the logo. I would tend to agree with her.

However, this weekend I think I probably put myself in Naomi's bad books.

In order to keep up my visitation of all Starbucks in Ireland - (I'm not sure how long this will last. There's a couple that have opened near me since I last wrote about my project. Starbucks tend to have an aggressive marketing policy that involves opening loads of stores in order to push out local coffee business. I know this because Naomi told me.) - I went into a clothes store in the city centre, BT2, that had a Starbucks upstairs...in its children's department.

Being in this store did start to make me feel uneasy. There were logos everywhere! As I had my 1 year old son with me I had to find a lift to get my coffee. Now, fair play to the staff. They were very helpful in taking me to a lift which involved going back outside and through another door with the use of a security card. Once upstairs I bought my regular latte and had a quick look around the children's clothes. This made me feel even more uneasy. Ralph Lauren, Timberland, DKNY, Burberry, Ted Baker, Bonpoint...for kids!!! One very brief glance through some baby clothes revealed a 75 euro shirt for a six month old. I guess someone is going to buy it.

On the way back down another helpful staff member chatted with me. Ironically, despite there being a Starbucks store 15 feet from where he was standing when I asked for help with the lift, the young sales assistant told me he had never been to Starbucks. We were already at the ground floor before I was able to ask him if this was his ultimate dedication to the No Logo cause.

Not ironically, I didn't buy anything from the clothes store. Partly for the cause. Mostly for the money.

Rainy Day Idea

Yesterday, two people happened to comment about my blog, making me feel guilty that I wasn't keeping up to date. I'm sorry. I've been quite busy recently and any spare time I've got has been used for studying (and sleeping). I've still got lots of study to do, but in order to make amends here's a quick thought from the coffee shop I was in this afternoon. Actually it was on the way to the coffee shop, but that still counts in the strictish rules I place upon myself for this blog.

It was pouring down with rain as I walked, but fortunately I had an umbrella. Unfortunately for quite a few other people I passed they didn't. I did offer to accompany a young lady with my umbrella, but she was going the other way (she said).

Anyway, here's an idea I had for promoting your organisation/business/club/church/whatever: You could have umbrellas made with your logo printed on it plus some words like, "This umbrella is given to you for free. Please pass it on to someone else who may need it after you." That way you're not only promoting your organisation, but generally being nice too.


My studies at the coffee shop were for an essay about atonement theories - ie. why did Jesus die? But that's for another post.

On my way home I was stopped by a Jehovah's Witness. We talked about atonement theories. I think I might have confused him. Likewise, that will have to wait for another day. I took the guy's number and said I might call him to meet for coffee sometime.

Right now I've got to study...

Bookending

I've just spent a really great bank holiday weekend - in Yorkshire. My wife and I, along with our two children, flew over to England to spend a couple of days with some good friends of ours, A. & H. There was lots to talk about, which meant lots of coffee. In fact the weekend, in coffee terms at least, was sandwiched between a couple of regular lattes at arrival and departure from Leeds/Bradford airport, both times activating the use of my second motto in life: 'Never say no to donuts.'

A. & H., along with their two children of a similar age to ours, are developing areas of creative ministry within a town called Tadcaster - so we have lots in common. It was really great to spend some quality time talking about family issues, Christian mission and theology along with a good dose of laughter (all related to the above, and more) and just pure fun with our kids. We challenged each other in our spiritual development and searched for answers to why we do what we do.

Thanks, guys. I can't wait to get together again.


The sweet taste of a donut made me feel good while checking-in, but having to surrender my coffee at the security check before I finished left me wanting more.

One Year On

In an attempt to visit every Starbucks in Ireland, do you think it counts to visit refreshment stands that "proudly serve Starbucks coffee?" I've decided no.

However, I was at one such place today - a coffee stand in Dublin Zoo. The regular latte that was served to me was only half-full, but I decided not to complain. Not just because I think of myself as an optomist at heart, but because I was spending a lovely day at the zoo with my wife and two children, celebrating my youngest's first birthday. I'm not sure that he was overly impressed with the animals, but he did seem to enjoy his first taste of cake. (Who wouldn't?)

Anniversaries of special dates always seem to make you reflect on why that date is so special and what happened to make a particular number and month standout anytime you see it somewhere. On 1st May last year I definately could of done with a rereshment stand that proudly servered any decent coffee. But I can't complain. All I had to do was hold my wife's hand. (Everything else was just amazing.)

Anyway, I love you, Little Guy. But you are going to have to wait untill you're at least three before you can have some coffee with that cake.

(When did I start drinking coffee.....???)

Background Music

I've yet to see in a record store a section entitled, 'Coffeehouse Background Music.' So I'm not sure where cafes get their selection of music. I usually quite like it in a sort of unnoticeable-but-there kind of way.

But the other day, while I was in Insomnia, a track came on which caught my attention. Maybe it was the slightly sensual French(???) accent or perhaps it was these words of the refrain:

This is my life.
I can't live it twice.
All I can give is a piece of my heart.

I'm not sure who was singing. Perhaps a quick google will reveal something. Excuse me a moment...............Ok, I'm back. I didn't find anything conclusive. Just a few quotes of the song on a couple of Russian sites. (Maybe it was a Russian accent). I've left a comment on someone's blog and I'll wait to see if I get an answer.

Anyway, I wrote the words down in my pocket notebook because I thought it was quite profound...although I'm not so sure now.

Wise Word

Deadlines for my studies are pressing in on me so I went out again tonight to my local coffeehouse to hit the books for a couple of hours.

Alister McGrath, in the introduction to his Christian Theology: An Introduction, says that theology is one of the most exciting subjects to study. Some people may choose other words than exciting, but I would tend to agree with him. I'm not sure why people oppose Christianity as something only for weak or simple minded people. Yes, these people have much to gain from Christianity, but there is so much more to getting your head around the things of God. Should you desire you can plumb the depths of all things historical, philosophical, moral and eschatological within theology. For me tonight it was Christology - thinking about Christ.

One view which has really struck me in my reading this evening was the thought of a cosmological Logos Christology. (Now there's a Phrase to bring up at a dinner party.) In essence, seeing Jesus Christ as the Logos (Word/Reason/Reality/Wisdom) of God who always has and always will hold the entire cosmos together like some sort of ontological cement. To reject this Logos is to reject reality and begin to slip back into pre-creation non-being. But this Logos became incarnate in flesh and blood (Jesus) in order to redeem creation and prevent a return to disorder by repairing the fabric of the universe so that humanity can become participants in the divine nature.

That's pretty heavy, I know, and I'm not sure I fully grasp it. But that's what makes theology exciting, I suppose - the wanting to grasp it.

Tea 'n' Biscuits

Walking home from the coffeehouse tonight I needed to pop in to Tesco's to get some tea, biscuits, bread and a magazine for my wife who seems to have finally caught up with the rest of the household in suffering through the family cold.

McVitties chocolate digestives were on special offer so I opted for them rather than the usual 'Tesco Value' rubbish. Afterall, nobody makes them quite like McVitties do. (Hmm, McVitties. What a strange name.)

Suffering from the aftertaste of a couple of (not that great) cups of coffee I decided to open the packet of biscuits on the way home and enjoy a couple. Yum.

I didn't have any tea though as the kettle lead doesn't stretch that far.

Worship

You can tell someone who has absolutely no social life because he goes out to a coffeehouse on a Saturday night. Alone. To study.

Hello. That's me.

In an attempt to catch up in my studies I'm taking spare moments here and there to do some reading. At the moment I'm studying a unit on the practice and theology of worship. So I decided to listen to some worship tracks on my mp3 player on the way to the cafe. Flicking through the choices I stopped on a song by Matt Redman called Lord, let your glory fall. I like this song so, as I hadn't listened to it for a while, I repeated it (three times I think). The song expresses a desire to see God reveal himself in glorious ways just like he did in ancient Biblical times.

Yeah. I like that. That would be amazing.

The particular focus of my studies on Saturday was looking at incorporating music in to liturgical worship. It's interesting because my faith background is very musical, but in no way liturgical - in the traditional sense of liturgy anyway. The books I was reading emphasised that the liturgy was the main act of worship and music should only be used to complement these words, not used as a stand alone form of worship. Hmm...I'm not sure about that.

However, I have found myself in recent years moving away from musical expressions of worship and being more interested in delving into the ancient traditions of the historical Church. But then I start to get confused and question myself as to who I am as a person of faith. Actually I've been doing a fair bit of that in recent years as I explore what I understand of theology, Christian mission and worship.

I suppose worship is something that, because of its eternal qualities, gives you a sense of connection to something/someone bigger. A kind of anchor, I guess, while you ask questions.

The ancients repeated a helpful phrase, a liturgy, a kind of anchor, which can be found in some of the Psalms of the Hebrew scriptures and which Matt Redman uses as a refrain in the song above. Addressing God then/now they/we sing:

You are good,
And Your love endures forever.

Wright Stuff

I decided to follow one of my own links and visit the (unofficial) website of N.T.Wright as mentioned in a post below. (I'm not sure that there actually is an official site. I've also now added the site to the link on the sidebar.)

I've got a couple of books from Theologian/Historian/Bishop of Durham, N.T. Wright including one of his latest called, Simply Christian. So I was interested to see that a video is available to watch of a lecture he gave at Washington National Cathedral (Washington, DC) as part of his book tour for the above book.

The talk is just under an hour long so I made a pot of coffee and downloaded it. (The lecture I mean, not the coffee. I suppose I uploaded the coffee...only to download it later. OK, stop it!)

Anyway, I really enjoyed it and am looking forward to getting more from his site. You might enjoy it too. Here's the link:

Simply Christian Book Tour - N.T. Wright at WNC

Worthy of more thought

I took this book to the coffeehouse tonight: Emerging Churches - Creating Christian Community in Postmodern Cultures.

I read through a chapter about doing away with the sacred/secular divide and then I flicked through earlier chapters of the book to briefly review what I had underlined. A couple of paragraphs stood out because I wrote in the margins, "worthy of more thought". See what you think about the reaction of leaders in the emerging church to identifying with Jesus and his message of the kingdom of God:

Rooted in the work of N.T. Wright, emerging churches embrace the gospel [literally the "good news"-Cosmo] of the kingdom as revealed in Mark 1:15-18. At the outset of the Gospel narrative, the good news was not that Jesus was to die on the cross to forgive sins but that God had returned and all were invited to participate with him in this new way of life, in this redemption of the world. It is this gospel that the emerging church seeks to recover. As one leader confided privately, "We have totally reprogrammed ourselves to recognize the good news as a means to an end - that the kingdom of God is here. We try to live into that reality and hope. We don't dismiss the cross; it is still a central part. But the good news is not that he died but that the kingdom has come."

Worthy of more thought, I think.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the start of the period known as Lent which runs up to Easter. I'm not giving anything up for Lent. (I'm not actually sure what the point of this exercise is unless it's something substantial - I don't think giving up chocolate for a few weeks compares to the agonies of crucifixion.) Instead I'll take up this thought: Did God come to Earth to live or die?

Look Up

As I walked home from the coffeehouse tonight an alarm from a building across the street caused me to look up to where the sound was coming from. I'm still not sure which building it was, but the simple act of looking up made me notice some great architecture that I usually pay no attention to. So I kept looking up the rest of the way home.


Try it.

Breakthrough

This week I managed to go to a cafe with my two young children (and wife) and enjoy drinking my latte at a leisurely pace. (YES!!) Up until now it has just been a bad idea to try and go out for coffee with a 2 year old.

However, the nine month old will be a toddler soon...and then it's going to be business as usual.

So I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts. In fact I am enjoying it - I went out with the kids twice this week already.

Country Pancakes

Finishing the last couple of bites of my Dutch Apple pancake I washed it down with the remainder of my latte, looked out of the window at the fir trees and gathering of birds and thought for a moment about what a lovely week I'd had.

Over the past several years when my wife and I (and now our two children) have gone on holiday it has usually been in connection with visiting family. Now I 'm not complaining about that because over the past several years visiting family has taken us not only to places in the UK, but also the USA and Australia. But it has been some time since just ourselves went on holiday. The need to get out of the house while a new kitchen is fitted presented the perfect opportunity. So, following a conference in London and family vists in both London and Bournemouth, we headed off to Centre Parcs in Longleat Forest.

I've wanted to go to Centre Parcs for years and I can tell you it was worth the wait. Fantastic!

Along with just the pleasure of staying in a "villa" in the middle of the forest it provides a great time for families of all sizes and ages. The Sub-tropical Swimming Paradise was a big hit for my two young children, especially the toddler who couldn't get enough of the slides. The spa provided hours of relaxation with it's various saunas, steam rooms and pools - my favourite was a stretch in the Japanese salt bath (steam room) quickly followed by dosing myself in handfuls of crushed ice from the ice fountain. Another highlight for me was laser clay shooting - I didn't do great, but I did hit the target a few times and didn't have the lowest score.

Perhaps the only negative experience was the lousy latte I was served at the Sports Cafe. However, the pancakes and coffee served at Country Pancakes more than made up for that.

I really hope we can go again soon.

Up in Smoke

For about three years now the smoking ban in Ireland has been very well received - at least by me. So when I'm in the UK you really notice the difference. While out on a rare date with my wife we wanted to go somewhere for coffee. Peering in to restaurants we noticed people lighting up so gave them a miss.

Originally I planned to pick up a coffee from the cafe in Borders in Bournemouth (current home of my parents who were now responsible for listening out for our children while they slept - the kids that is - as we went out for a short time), but 30 seconds after walking into the bookshop the announcement was made that the cafe was now closed. Thirty minutes later the whole store closed leaving us to look elsewhere for (smoke-free) coffee.

We opted for a romantic evening at Asda. I sure know how to treat a lady so I suggested that I pick up a latte and a cappucino from the McDonald's as we entered the superstore. We went our separate ways with coffee in hand - my wife to the cheap children's clothes and myself to music/movies section.

I bought the first Thrills album which I have been wanting for a while and also a 3 CD compilation album for 7 quid featuring "True Number 1's".

Getting back into the car and driving down the A338 (can you tell this date night is getting better and better?) we listened to sections of a few Number 1's: With a little help from my friends (Wet Wet Wet), Killer (Adamski), One day in your life (Michael Jackson), Pass the dutchie (Musical Youth), and so on.

And then the ideal track arrived which deserved to be listened to all the way through despite the road getting increasingly dark as we drove towards the New Forest: I think we're alone now (Tiffany) A song which was obviously meaningful to my wife and me from across both sides of the Atlantic. (I think I can hear you singing it now too...)

Whatever happened to Tiffany, anyway? I believe her career went up in smoke after just one album.

Curry and Coffee

I've been on a conference in London this week as part of my continuing development in the early years of ministry. The seminars themselves (about leadership) have been quite good, but what is best about these days is seeing friends. It's always good tyo catch up with people and find out what is going on in their lives. It's just a shame that it seems to only happen once a year.

So it was a great idea when one of the friends suggested that, after the evening sessions had finished, a group of us should go out for a curry. For about three hours we enjoyed each others company a talked about all sorts of things - from memories of our ministry training together to working through theological issues which we face. I sensed it was the kind of evening that we all craved for, but rarely find.

As we ended the meal with coffee I took the oportunity to, once again, shamelessly promote my blog and promised to mention them.

J - You are so funny. You always make me laugh.
MS - Your depth of theological insights are always helpful.
K - You have great stories to tell about your family - a real family guy.
MT - It was interseting to hear your thoughts about baptism.
G - I bet coming home to your wife and family was a welome reunion.
C - I'm looking forward to hearing about your service in Uganda - much respect.

Thanks guys. It was great.

Keep Left

Walking home from the coffeehouse tonight I noticed that the 'Keep Left' sign that usually sits at the end of my street had been moved (again).

It was now pushed up against a wall.

You couldn't keep more left without scraping your nose.

Tuesdays @ 7

Moda was packed tonight. I'm not sure why, but I'm pleased for the management - good for business.

As I made my way up to my usual seating area I glanced into the basement to see if the knitting club was there. My wife has recently started to knit and she wanted me to do a little recon to see if the club was running again after the Christmas break. It was.

As I said, Moda was packed and there were no seats available. Not even the last-resort-uncomfortable-chairs-at-the-small-table-in-the-corner seats. I had to go down to the basement.

The poster on the wall stated that the knitting club meets in the basement of Moda on Tuesdays @ 7pm. About a dozen women, and one pre-teen girl, took up about three-quarters of the basement. I squeezed into an empty sofa, but before I could even sit down, and being the only male in the room, I was offered a pair of needles by at least two knitters.

A few of the women glance over at me - a couple of times. I glance back and recognise a couple of them (though I doubt they recognise me) - one is a librarian from the Rathmines Library and the other is the mother of a kid who once did a mediocre job of washing my car. Fair play to car-washing mother, she seems very evangelical for the knitting cause. Not only did she offer me the chance to join in, but she seemed to engage with anyone who happened to walk past on their way to the toilets.

Eventually two other guys enter and sit at the sofa next to me to play some chess. They look suitably uncomfortable (having been "evangelised") and tell each other they won't stay long. (As it happens they outlast the lot of us and are left to play chess in solitude by the end of the evening.)

I try to read my book, but am strangely fascinated by this gaggle and I can't help wondering how many of them are wearing products of former Tuesday evenings. I watch them as they effortlessly knit and talk about Celebrity Big Brother and vegetarian cuisine. One woman passes around a recently acquired loop of yarn. People feel the quality and comment on the colour. Everyone seems suitably impressed.

Me too!

In fact, I almost want to move from my seat and join the circle just to be a part of this community and maybe even have a go! I don't. Though I do imagine the conversations that would, perhaps, continue for weeks to come as they remember the night "a man joined our group."

Instead I continue to peer over my book watching as one knitter asks an older knitter for some advice. (I liked that.) She seems to be working on a sock while using four needles! When I say needles, actually they were more like oversized cocktail sticks. I was pleased to see 'sock lady' in turn give helpful advice to a novice.

Eventually they pack up their needles and wander off leaving a little more space in the basement for 'the guys'. I also finish up my latte and leave.

On returning home I discover that my wife has spent the evening knitting a scarf for my birthday (on Friday). I shall proudly wear it to Moda on Tuesdays @ 7 and feel, in some way, a connection with the group.

Bag O' Coins

As I walked down to the coffeehouse tonight I passed a man standing in a phonebox. On the shelf by the phone was a carrier bag half full of coins. I thought this was quite resourceful. Then I noticed that, though standing in the phonebox, he wasn't actually using the pay phone. He was using his mobile phone instead.

I wonder what the bag of coins was all about?

More coffee than usual

For a blog that is centred around drinking coffee I don't drink an awful lot of coffee at home. I've said before that I usually make a habit of making a fresh cup of coffee each morning, but that's about it for the day if I'm at home. Quite often it's just one cup a day.

Sundays are different. I tend to drink four or five cups - before lunch! That's because on Sundays we have Brunch Church. It's a small gathering where we share a late breakfast together and catch-up with what is going on in peoples' lives while we sit around the dining table enjoying croissants, muffins, bacon rolls, fruit and coffee (or tea/hot chocolate).

We follow breakfast with a time of either discussion on a spiritual topic, a prayer exercise, some creative expression of worship or a look at something in the Bible. Sometimes, as we grapple with an issue or attempt to get Biblical understanding, it helps to drink a little more coffee. Yesterday was one of those mornings.

I suggested we look at a parable of Jesus - one of the lesser known ones. It's the parable of the shrewd manager (Luke 16) and you can read it if you click here.

We didn't come to a unanimous, satisfying conclusion as to what the story means so I'd be interested in your thoughts on:

• Why did Jesus tell this story?
• Who do the characters represent?
• Does it have an application for life today?

If it makes sense to you please let me know. I'll pour another cup and take your thoughts back to the group.

Coffee Lingo

Insomnia Coffee Company are now open in Rathmines...Actually they've been open for ages, but I guess I didn't get around to blogging it.

Anyway, they have a poster up so you can use their coffee language when ordering. Hmmm.

• Split - half the caffeine
• Dry - extra foam
• Wet - extra steamed milk
• Skinny - low fat milk
• No Fun - decaffeinated
• Harmless - skinny and no fun
• With Wings - take away
• Wild - with whipped cream
• No Whip - without whipped cream
• Barista - esspresso bartender (well, duh!)

As you know, my usual preference is for a regular latte just as it comes. But maybe 2007 is the year of coffee experimentation. Maybe I could even randomly chose three phrases from above and see what I get. Maybe. (What if I got a wild barista with wings? Or worse?)

Christmas Day

Okay, I know Christmas was a couple of weeks ago, but I wanted to right about a lovely experience that I had over Christmas dinner.

Some friends of ours invited us to join their family for Christmas dinner. We were honoured to spend some quality time with our friends and their extending family. There were about a dozen of us around a huge table spread with magnificence - delicious turkey, big slices of ham, more vegetables than I think I got around to having on my plate, bread sauce and stuffing, endless glasses of juice and, to top it all, a home made Christmas pudding complete with flames - marvelous!

Despite the spectacle which was the feast I will remember for a long time what happened at the end of the meal. Throughout our eating and merriment (I just wanted to use that word because it sounded Christmasy) music played in the background. Typical Christmas compilation kind of stuff. But it was at the end of the meal as I was enjoying my second cup of coffee, served with a big dollop of cream, that the Christmas carol 'In the Bleak Midwinter' came on the CD player. A stillness descended as we sat back in our seats and then our hosts' elderly mother began to sing along. Within a few lines each of us joined in:

What can I give him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb;
If I were a wise man
I would do my part;
Yet what can I give him?
Give my heart.

It really was a beautiful moment.

Thank you C & S.