I’m learning British terms more and more, but there was an announcement at church on Sunday that stumped me: “It’s Burns Night so we’re having a céilidh.” So many things here I just never knew about.
Speaking of our church, there was an article about it in the local paper recently. It’s an interesting story. Because of dwindling attendance, it was closed in 1991. Holy Trinity Brompton has been planting churches and they chose this site as a new plant a year ago. Just being in the building on Sundays reflects the feeling of resurrection – the church building was dead for decades, and now is alive.
As the article indicates, it’s grown a lot in just a year, as apparently has other churches in the area. People always say how England is spiritually dead and dying. But I don’t know, I feel a sense of something happening. And it’s not old people – we’re actually among the oldest people at the church. They’re all young, artsy-types. So there’s at least some future for the Church in England.
I hate to be one of those naive, provincial Californians who have never really experienced snow but I can’t help it -that’s exactly who I am. I find it snowing where I live (as opposed to going somewhere to see snow) absolutely fascinating. My deskmate is from SoCal, and when it started snowing last week, both of us couldn’t stop staring out the window at work, watching the snow fall. It’s surreal. Getting off the subway, seeing my neighborhood, the place where I live, blanketed in snow – also surreal.
It also sucks. Fresh snow is awesome. The aftermath, or even the fresh snow falling for too long, is annoying. Wet, cold, slippery, dirty – I can’t believe people live like this. Roll your eyes if you want, but I don’t get why anyone – if given the choice – wouldn’t live in California.
I’m finding my standards for warm changing rapidly also. Before January, I considered it “warm” any time it was 10 degrees or higher (50 F). Now, if it’s above 0 (32 F), as long as there’s no rain or snow, that’s warm enough.