A special welcome

Reading the moving eyewitness accounts of yesterday’s ordinations to the diaconate, of  the former Church of England Bishops, Andrew Burnham, Keith Newton and John Broadhurst, I was particularly touched by the following:

“One of the most striking elements of the mass was the way in which the wives of those being ordained were made to feel so welcome and made part of the mass. Not only did they bring the bread and wine at the offertory, but after the prayer after communion they assembled before the bishop as he thanked them for their example of love and family life and gave them a special blessing.”

This gesture of welcome should not be underestimated. I cannot begin to imagine how Mrs Burnham, Newton and Broadhurst must be feeling. Being a clergy wife in the Church of England is a delicate balancing act, requiring much tact, diplomacy and a willingness to take a back seat to your husband’s vocation; accepting that a considerable majority of the time your husband needs to put his ministry first, in the same way that a secular man needs to prioritise his job. The hours are unsociable and the demands unpredictable. The Anglican Church does however have a culture of married ministers and  a clergy wife is therefore not an unusual concept, unlike the Catholic Church whereby priests are required to practice celibacy, unless they have been granted a dispensation, as in the case of convert priests. To agree to become the wife of a Catholic priest, whereby your role may well be vastly different and your presence something of an anomaly or curiosity is not a task for the faint-hearted, particularly if you have been married to a high-profile spouse such as a Bishop.

The Ordinariate is treading unchartered waters, the former bishops have had to give up positions of great responsibility, their salaries, their homes and their pensions, a decision which will have an enormous impact on their families and would doubtless have been impossible without the support of their wives. It perhaps shouldn’t be surprising that their spouses were welcomed in this way, but given that no similar rite is included in the Anglican ordination service, the public acceptance and welcome of wives is all the more remarkable together with the thanks and blessing and must have been of enormous comfort to them as they accompany their husbands on this next stage in their journey.

Providentially enough I chanced upon this blogpost written by the wife of a Catholic priest in the Byzantine rite (h/t Christopher Smith & Shameless Popery, who also did a great precis) which describes the 7 most frequent comments that people blurt out when they discover that you are married to a Catholic priest. It’s definitely worth a read and I can certainly identify with many of her observations, particularly the parts about scheduling and her poignant response to her husband’s ministry.

“There is a huge part of my husband’s life that I can never understand or participate in. This is probably the strongest argument against a married priesthood in any rite. We priest’s wives cannot fathom the feelings of being at the altar or the confessional. These experiences are hidden from us. God’s grace abounds in these situations, but I suspect the evil one is lurking in the shadows, waiting for us to fail. Evil doesn’t like husbands, fathers or priests. So it is a lot to say yes to these vocations.  All we wives can do is be positive complements to our  priest husbands like any wife. Pray for the wives and children!”

So tomorrow, when we celebrate the momentous and joyful occasion of the start of the Ordinariate, let us also give thanks for the gift of their families and hope that they may be able to inspire other families to follow their courageous lead. A truly remarkable gesture for a truly remarkable movement.

Sposi Novelli

I have to admit to just a tinge of envy when I spotted that a new website has been set up which aims to help newlyweds receive a blessing from the Pope in Rome.

For the uninitiated this practice known as Sposi Novelli,  means that newlyweds may attend a general Papal audience in Rome within a year of their wedding, have allocated seats at the front and the Pope will come over, greet the couples and offer a handshake and a blessing. Most couples wear their wedding regalia for the occasion.

I can’t help thinking that it is something of a shame that Pope Benedict XVI has discontinued his predecessor’s  practice of individually blessing each couple. A former colleague of mine was fortunate enough to have received this grace from the then ailing Pope John Paul II and recounts an absolutely hilarious tale. Apparently as she and her husband knelt before the Holy Father as she stood up she got the heel of her shoe caught in the hem of her voluminous dress, felt herself toppling forward, automatically shot her hand out for support catching the knee of the elderly pontiff, almost dragging him onto the floor with her and sending the Swiss Guards running to disentangle the pair of them!

I console myself with the fact that though we were unable to get to Rome to receive this privilege in person, we were fortunate enough to receive an Apostolic marriage blessing, as a gift from our local parish which occupies pride of place. I would have relished the opportunity to put on my beautiful wedding dress one more time and can’t think of a more appropriate and resplendent setting for us in our nuptial finery, than Rome. Just thinking about it sends me into girlish raptures.

Mind you, given that I fell pregnant a few months after our wedding, I suspect the sight of a groom dressed in a long black cassock, dog collar and black saturno from Gamerellis* accompanying his visibly pregnant bride, whilst seeking a personal papal blessing, may well have caused a slight raising of the Apostolic eyebrow!

 

 

*Since posting, I have been informed that said hat came from Barbaconi, not Gamerelli. “Gamerilli, on my salary?! Ha ha ha ha”.

Betrayal

According to reports in this morning’s Daily Telegraph, David Cameron is set to introduce laws that will give companies the power to sack the slackers. Part of the new ’employers’ charter will allow companies to sack workers during the first two years of their employment without the threat of being taken to a tribunal for unfair dismissal.

In the words of Max Bygraves, let me tell you a story. One that is deeply humiliating and embarrassing and one, that until now, very few people are aware of. Though what happened was undoubtedly not
my fault, the shame and mortification stay with me to this day.

In 2006 I worked as the PA to the rather idiosyncratic headmistress of an independent girls’ catholic boarding school in Oxford. It was, without a shadow of a doubt one of the most interesting positions I’ve ever held. Originally I was drafted in to help after her original PA needed to go on a period of extended leave. We very quickly built up an excellent rapport;  as the professional mother of a young child, for whom I was considering private education, together with my city experience, I was a perfect candidate for the position, the fact that I was catholic and had been privately educated myself, were added bonuses. I suggested and implemented many ways in which the admin process could be streamlined and speeded up and how communication with parents could be vastly improved as well as the marketing. The headmistress was wedded to tradition, everything had to be put on paper in triplicate and certainly in 2007, she had absolutely no idea how to switch on a computer.

However she enjoyed my dynamism and enthusiasm and very swiftly offered me the position on a full-time basis given the impending retirement of her previous PA. The job paid significantly less than I had
previously commanded, the hours were long, no allowances were made for the fact that I had a 2-year-old and on the occasions nursery were unable to take her, it was suggested that I brought her in to
work for one of the 19 year-old boarding assistants to look after in order that I wouldn’t miss a day’s work. In all the time that I worked there, the only absenteeism was a half day for an unavoidable hospital appointment. I enjoyed the work and developed excellent relationships with pupils, parents and staff, whilst accepting that the headmistress herself, like many bosses, required delicate handling. Various rumours and stories abounded about her legendary temper, the demands put upon staff which were above and beyond the call of duty and her capriciousness, but I remained fiercely loyal. She was, I felt, misunderstood, after all she had no immediate family and lived on the school premises, the school
was literally her life.

Just before Christmas of that year, she called me into her office whereupon I was subjected to an incredible verbal tirade. I had recently lost a substantial amount of weight, partly I suspect due to the fact that I was so busy at work, very often, because the head didn’t eat lunch, she expected me not to either and simply to work through lunchtime. If I ate a sandwich at my desk, she would sit and watch, tutting impatiently waiting for me to finish. According to the head, I had “anorexia and was setting a bad example to the gels” (I was 5 foot 5 and 8 stone 10, so hardly anorexic by any definition) and furthermore “colleagues had been complaining that I was flirting with the malestaff”. Quite how I was supposed to have found to find time to flirt with anyone, given that I was confined to my office the entire working day was beyond me, and not to put too fine a point on it, the few male members of staff who did work there consisted of married men with an average age of 55. As someone who had just turned 30, with a young child to consider and who was experiencing a forthcoming divorce, pursuing older married men had absolutely no interest to me. In fact, at that point, no romantic relationships held any interest, I was more interested in surviving the next few years financially, emotionally and spiritually intact.

I spoke to my immediate colleagues in the office to ask if they had any concerns, to which they responded only that I seemed to have been working incredibly hard recently, they were worried that I was needing to take work home with me to finish and they were adamant that I shouldn’t let myself be “taken advantage of”. I had already put my foot down, in that the head’s previous PA had done her personal shopping for her, she would regularly do a Tesco shop on behalf on the head, not having to deal with a young family, and I was very clear that though I would be keen to help on occasion, regular food shopping for the head was above and beyond the call of duty. She did after all have a car of her own but was very reticent about driving, requiring a groundsman to drive her when she needed to go off-site. As for the “flirting” issue, my colleagues dissolved into peals of laughter, seeing at first sight how ludicrous that particular suggestion was. We thought that perhaps she’d had a mad moment. My receptionist, a lady in her 50s was particularly sympathetic. the head frequently managed to reduce her into a gibbering wreck, when she was in one of “those moods”. Almost all the staff had suffered from a bizarre tirade at some time or another, and finally it was my turn, it would blow over.

And indeed things seemed to. My last day at work was on Christmas Eve, and I gave the head a gift of a Monty Python film boxset, as on frequent occasions she said how much she had enjoyed their films and how she really ought to have them on video. I came back to work on the 2nd January, to find a thank you card on my desk for the “thoughtful gift”. Strangely enough I didn’t see the head all that day and presumed that she was taking an extra day’s break, which was unusual for such a workaholic. On coming into work the next day, I discovered that the IT network seemed to be down, I couldn’t access any of my files. I called the Bursar’s office, who said that it was being worked on. Then at 10.0o am, the assistant bursar came into the office and said that the Head wanted to see me. Nothing unusual
there, she often did at that time, so as per usual, I grabbed my pad and my cup of tea and made my way over. The assistant bursar seemed to be following me, which was peculiar and she said “would you normally take your tea in to see the head?”, to which I replied, “yes why?” and she said “well you’d better leave it behind”. I got into the office, whereupon I was told that my services were no longer required and I needed to leave the premises immediately. As a gesture of good will, I was handed a cheque for a month’s salary, “without obligation”. When I asked why, what were the reasons, what had I done, this was utterly illegal, I’d had no formal verbal or written warnings, was there a problem with the quality of my work, what could be done to resolve matters, I was simply told “your services are no longer required”. The head, her face going redder and redder, and unable to make eye contact, told me that she couldn’t go into any detail, she was very regretful, I had been the best assistant that she had ever had, my skills were certainly in no doubt, nor was my commitment, but that my services were no longer needed. No discussion as to why, what I might have done, or how I could rectify the situation, what it was that she felt was no longer working. I was marched to my car and told to leave the premises, asap, like a common criminal.

I was devastated and later on that day, when I had recovered from my distress, I rang some of my admin
colleagues, who were equally baffled, distressed and upset. They had absolutely no idea what was behind it either. I also rang the assistant bursar for clarification and begged to know what on earth the problem was, my quality of work was excellent, my references were excellent, I’d been working there 11 months and just couldn’t work out for the life of me, what I had done wrong. The assistant bursar, whilst not in the presence of the head, confided that she felt extremely sorry for me, she was unable to give me any particular reason, she assured me I’d have an excellent references, she was very very sorry, there was nothing she could do, other than to advise me to put it behind me and I would undoubtedly get a much better job. Which indeed I did.

At the time, I was however, incredibly hurt, angry and distressed, that 11 months of service counted for nothing, my skills weren’t in question, my professionalism wasn’t in question, other than some weight loss, and yet I could be summarily sacked without any just cause and with no protocols or disciplinary procedure. I contacted CAB who confirmed that the head had broken every single employment law in the book and should I go to tribunal then I would undoubtedly win hands down. However, given that I only had 11 months of service and not 12, then there was absolutely nothing that could be done. The head had taken advantage of a loophole. I don’t know what was worse, to see my job advertised in the Oxford Times, or when I bumped into members of staff in town over the course of the next few years. They had come back and asked where I was. “She decided that she didn’t want to work here any more and walked out after Christmas” they were told. Both staff and parents were shocked and disappointed, and I was furious that my professional reputation had been doubly compromised. A lot of the staff expressed how much they missed me, perhaps one of the issues had been that they would often come into the office to sound off, I would listen impartially, soak it up and yet would never divulge any staffroom gossip to the head. Very often, people would just need to come and have a vent, a cup of tea and a biscuit and then go on their way. Confidentiality is just that.

As David Cameron was my constituency MP, I went to see him about this matter, I felt it needed to be highlighted that someone could be summarily dismissed without any recourse to the law or internal disciplinary procedures, due to personal whim. The first thing he did was to enquire about my background. When I told him about my two previous employers, his response was “you worked for XXXX, you’ll get another job, no problem, people like you aren’t my concern”. I guess that was a pragmatic enough response and to a certain extent he was right. He then talked about the importance of
flexibility of employers in terms of childcare and how he was able to take his daughter to work. “Lucky you” I thought. Finally he gave me a lecture on how important probation periods are, how they work both ways and give a chance both for the employer and the employee to see that the arrangement was working. The point was, this was outside of my probationary period. And even if it had still been inside the probationary period, there should still have been protocols to be followed. Not just “I’ve decided that you’re too thin and you won’t pass on staff gossip so you have to go”.David Cameron, did however, concede that what had happened was terribly unfair, even if one accepts that there are two sides to every story, which there undoubtedly are, just to sack a member of staff with a young child, with no warning for no apparent reason, should not be able to happen in this day and age. He said he would look into relevant legislation and fire off a letter to the head for me. And that was that.

I didn’t want the pay award of a tribunal, what was more important was justice. For a panel to look and this and rule that it was unfair, which it undoubtedly was. I still get upset when I think about it today, particularly given that the head of this school prided herself on her Catholic and Christian compassion. I still experience the humiliation of being marched off premises and the disorientation and hurt of losing my employment lifeline. I was treated like an eighteenth centurymillworker, who had no worth and no value. I still speculate as to what was behind it now. My only consolation is that since this occurred, due to incredibly high staff turnover, both in terms of office staff (my former colleagues left) and teaching staff, a head of HR has been appointed, at the request of the governors. Some staff saw what had happened to me and decided that they wished to work in an altogether more pleasant environment. My hope is that this situation will be prevented from ever occurring again.

I am disappointed that David Cameron, having seen first hand how an employer may circumvent existing legislation by the period of a a few weeks and behave in a thoroughly reprehensible fashion, has seen fit to extend this further and open up the possibility of more employee exploitation. Losing one’s job is devastating on every single level. What happened to me was absolutely inexcusable. Up until this point, I have been a relatively impartial defender of the coalition. I am now wondering whether or not there is any section of society that they won’t manage to alienate. How a licence to exploit vulnerable employees adds up to economic sense is beyond me. It certainly won’t engender any sense of loyalty and will create a suspicious, defensive workforce. It is not a policy of decency, common-sense and compassion. How can you expect to get people off welfare, if you are going to force them into a job whereby they can be exploited, threatened and sacked on a whim by unscrupulous employers? This is a measure that will have the greatest impact upon our most vulnerable workers.

David Cameron, can we dismiss you without reason before you’ve completed 2 years service?

Dear Posh

I am delighted to hear of your pregnancy. A baby is always a cause for celebration. I know both you and the Daily Mail will be ecstatic. It must have been terribly irksome having to compete  for column inches with a proper Royal Wedding and the celebrity offspring of another prominent Queen, but rest assured, you are bound to keep upstarts like Cher Lloyd and the ubiquitous Kardashian sisters in their place for some time yet.

Just once teensy, weensy request from one beleaguered mother to another. Would you mind eating just a bit of dinner during this pregnancy? Just a few mouthfuls every now and then in order to make sure us lesser mortals who can’t control our weight don’t feel overwhelmed by despair and self-loathing at our lack of control when we survey photos of your non-existent 20 week bump. I know that Dave has abolished the Health in Pregnancy grant, but I’m sure you can stretch to the odd bit of roast lamb every now and again. Also, it might be nice, if whilst in the midst of  being superglued to the feeding chair for 24 hour breast-feeding marathons, we weren’t subjected to photographs of you losing the baby weight before the child has even been delivered. Nor the obligatory photograph of you back in your size zero skinny jeans, impeccably made up, coiffered and manicured, 20 seconds post-birth.

I know you have the money and resources to have a tummy tuck at the same time as having your section, I don’t blame you, I’m sure in your situation we’d all do the same, but you know what, it might actually earn you quite a lot of respect from amongst the ranks of us lesser mortals, who can’t afford personal trainers, chefs, make-up artists, nannies and the like, to be assured that behind that robotic facade there is a human being.

Appearing in public with just a hint of the baby weight would perhaps be the most positive gift you could give to your newborn, particularly if she is your much-longed-for baby girl.

Yours sincerely

A mother who was informed today that she looked as though she might be about to drop at any minute and who has another 15 weeks to go.

PS Just for good measure, I’ve put in a photo of myself taken at 40 weeks, on the date my daughter was due. Rest assured, you’re never going to look this bad.

Words fail me

This is what happens when we start thinking about children as being some sort of “right” or commodity, there to satisfy an innate “need” or craving.

If you disposed of a puppy or a kitten in a similar fashion you would end up with a fine or jail sentence and almost certainly be banned from ever owning a pet again.

But because it is children that we are talking about they are automatically treated as being some sort of property of the mother, her body and thus to do with as she sees fit, including killing them because they are the wrong sex.

And we as a civilised society sanction this, we validate their behaviour by succumbing to their destructive tantrums and concede that a child is a right not a human, but take this contortion of natural law one step further namely, not only is a child a right, but a parent has a right to a child of a sex of their choosing?

What better illustration can there be of the paradox of IVF, whereby the process of creating new life has destruction of life as its by-product?

But so long as nobody is offended or hurt, a child is produced who will be loved, that makes this all acceptable does it? The ends justify the means?

I’d like to hear from anyone who thinks that this is in any way acceptable.

Homophobic persecution

This post is written much later than I would have wished, due to my baby having been unwell with swine flu. I have debated whether or not to write this, given the furore has died down, and inevitably some conflict will be reignited but I would like the following to be said and out in the open.

I am a regular contributor to a debate forum on a parenting website. Predictably enough someone raised the issue of whether or not Elton John was too old to adopt. There was a lot of consensus agreeing that this was not an ideal arrangement due to his age and other issues, many of which have been picked up on by the media. I contributed my view, namely that 63 was too old to be fathering a young baby. I will elucidate further in a later post, why this whole arrangement disturbs me, but in terms of the original question, “were they too old”, my answer was an unequivocal “yes”.

Unlike other posters however, my concerns were seized on as being that old bugbear, namely homophobic. When I queried as to why I was perceived as homophobic, as opposed to everyone else who had expressed the same view, this was because I have previously expressed reservations about same-sex couples adopting. In addition, as a Catholic, I am a de-facto homophobe.

This is more than a little disturbing and not only for Catholics. There are plenty of valid reasons as to why one may feel that a differently gendered household is a better environment for children to grow up in, than a single-sex one, and none of them are based upon homophobia, which just to recap, is defined as an “irrational fear or hatred” towards gay people. I was asked to prove why I held these beliefs, studies were bandied about attempting to prove that outcomes for children raised by same-sex parents were no more negative than for children raised in other situations, however, none of the studies compared children from sex-same parents with children from different gender parents in stable relationships. Furthermore, the absence of “harm” does not render something “good” and therefore to be embraced.

My reservations about same-sex adoptions and surrogacy are rooted in something a lot more substantial than an irrational or illogical aversion to homosexual acts, but because I have publicly gone on record that I subscribe to the Catholic Church’s view that homosexual acts are sinful, this means that I wish to discriminate against gay people and deny them their “rights to procreate”. Furthermore “If you think gay sex is sinful, then presumably you categorise all practising gays as sinners. And that’s not homophobic?” Leaving aside the issues of whether or not procreation is a basic right and discussing Christian attitudes to homosexuality, which I will explore in later posts, it is of vital importance to debunk this whole homophobic labelling myth of those who do not wish to endorse same-sex adoption/surrogacy.

Why does this matter? Well firstly the label “homophobic” is used pejoratively, as way of insulting and smearing those whose views are not in accordance with one’s own. In many ways it has lost much of its potency due to the way it is bandied around as a generic label. To accuse someone of homophobia is on a par with accusing them of racism, anti-Semitism or any other form of intolerance. It infers that their opinions are purely visceral, not based on logic or reason and they stem from an inherent hatred, dislike or fear. An assertion that an act is sinful, i.e. that it separates you from God, is not indicative of any aversion to a group of individuals. As the word has so many negative connotations, it can be used as a weapon to confuse and befuddle any debate and denigrate any valid objections. You may simply be written off as an idiot, someone whose opinions are rooted in hate and fear. The word bullies and attempts to close down debate as well as humiliate and insult. Anyone remember “bigot-gate” which sealed public opinion of Gordon Brown?

I am not prepared to be associated with the likes of the BNP and nor, I suspect are the majority of Catholics. I am not prepared to stay silent because I am frightened of the usual incorrect accusations of homophobia. If we stay silent, because of the chorus of  intolerance and vilification employed against us by virtue of the fact of our Catholic views, then how on earth can we expect to be heard and to have a voice in society? If we accept this incorrect labelling, then we accept that our views are irrelevant, illogical and based on a distorted interpretation of the Creed. As Catholics and Christians, a belief that homosexual acts may imperil a soul (along with many other sins, both sexual and non-sexual) is not based on hatred, but based on love. Let me be clear, I have absolutely no interest in making homosexuality or homosexual acts illegal. I am quite libertarian in that respect. I do not believe that the state should legislate to enforce personal morality. What people chose to do with their genitalia is no concern of mine, so long as it is in private and involves other consenting adults. I do not seek to criminalize those with same-sex inclinations or those who act upon them, which would be a wholly counter-productive approach and not one rooted in compassion or understanding. In the same way, I do not wish to criminalize those who engage in sex outside of marriage, another sexual sin. Sexual sin, is simply another type of sin, something that alienates us from God and ultimately something that hurts ourselves. People need to form their own morality on these issues, hopefully based on Catholic/Christian ethics and an informed understanding of the teachings of Christ. No government or individual can enforce purity of heart. That has to come from within, we have to act out of caritas, not out of enforced legal compulsion, which does nothing to increase our desire for God.

To employ a cliche, I have plenty of gay friends, both practicing and celibate. How can I reconcile this with my views of sinfulness? Well, I also have friends who are not in what the Church would describe as regular marital relationships. I don’t say to people “Oh, you sexual sinner, I’m not going to engage with you, I’m not going to offer you any hospitality because you are clearly manifesting your sins”. I am not in a position to judge the state of people’s souls nor compare them to mine. They may well be guilty of sexual sin, but I am guilty of sin as much as they and thus I cannot be Pharisaical about this. All I can ever do, is discuss the issue if it comes up, gently point out that how this is against Christian teaching and leave it at that. It’s not about judgement or condemnation but about love. It’s about saying, “look, I don’t think this is how Christ wishes you to live”, but if someone is not a Christian, then its a moot argument. Gentle apologetics is the way to go, not preaching bile and hatred; I have no time for the evangelicals who wish to march about with banners of condemnation, whipping up confrontation and reinforcing public opinion of Christians as bigots. I am not a priest, I have no responsibility for the cure of souls, but that doesn’t mean that I should stay silent out of fear of condemnation, whilst at the same time, it is not for me to tell people what they should do. All I can ever do is voice my feelings on the matter.

So, why bother being so defensive about this issue, why bother attempting to prove that I, and Catholics and Christians like me, are not homophobic, why not simply accept that this is what other people will invariably think if we speak up? Because to accept the label is to accept the accusation, to accept that our views are rooted in hatred, fear and aversion and not out of love or concern. To accept the label, is to let other people’s bigotry dominate the debate about what kind of society we wish to live in and to accept that children are some sort of commodity or right, out of fear of being called a name. To accept it, accepts our own marginalisation. To ignore it, feeds the claims of those who would claim that Christians are being increasingly persecuted in the UK. We cannot simply accept that we are going to be a persecuted minority and if we look at this sensibly, Christians, are not persecuted in this country by any sensible definition of the word. We are not martyrs, our government does not ask us to choose between our faith and our lives, although we may feel our freedom of speech is restricted. We buy into this persecution mentality and we fuel further accusations of misguided delusion.

Of course, another choice is to refuse to engage with mainstream debate, to stick with communities of other Catholics and Christians. In many ways this is advisable, we are all the body of Christ, and certainly I tend to stick to Catholic forums and blogs if I am looking for sensible informed commentary instead of misinformed rantings. But actually, I also want to participate in and engage with discussions with non-Christians. Partly so that my voice can be heard and partly to dispel some myths, engage in apologetics and partly because I want don’t want to limit my sphere to the purely theological. I want to be able to talk about parenting and current affairs as well as the magisterium. If hearts and minds can be swayed, if we are to be able to spread the word, then we need to enter into discourse with non-Christians, although there does come a point whereby one has to accept that people do not want to listen with open hearts or minds.

There are plenty of people who have written to me and said “look I don’t agree with your Christian views, but you know what I do agree with your views on Elton John, I really admire you for sticking to your guns and speaking your mind.”

I am not going to be marginalised, hectored or shouted down, nor accept my views as being a product of brainwashing, vitriol or hatred. It’s a tired technique used by those who wish to close down an argument and claim a moral superiority and relegate opposition to being unreasonable, extreme and dangerous.

This labelling of our opposition proves Mark Shea’s comment “tolerance is not enough. You must approve”.

To invoke the over-used Godwin’s law, I also see parallels in this insistence upon a label and dangers in a passive acceptance. “You are a homophobe, accept it wear the label, we don’t want to cause you any harm, you are entitled to your views, you just have to accept our definition of what they are and what they mean”. Wear the star, accept the label, you are a perfidious Jew, but don’t worry, we don’t want to hurt you. This is why these misconceptions must be addressed and challenged by use of reason and apologetics, wheresoever they are encountered, instead of a sigh and a shake of the head. And that applies to anyone who baulks at the notion that they are homophobe, because they do not consent to two old men effectively buying a baby.

My gaff, my rules

For those who have determined that they are still going to read, as a general rule, as owner of this blog, I have editorial control, in the same way as all blog owners.

I am happy to enter into discourse and general discussions, but personal and ad hominem attacks will not be tolerated. If I do not wish to pursue a certain topic further, then I will not publish further comments on a thread, particularly if I feel that there is no purpose to be served.

Somebody has taken my last post to be a personal attack on her, which it was not, although it was an attack on my assumed fear, hatred and distrust of gay people, which had absolutely no basis in fact.

She accused me of deliberately misquoting and paraphrasing her. I did no such thing and a quick glance at my Twitter feed will bear out the comments that were directed at me. My original post did contain an error, therefore I corrected it, however my sense of being under siege has not abated. This morning I have been subject to further barrages and haranguing. I have been told by disgruntled commentator, “I WILL NOT let you get away with this”. I have politely asked to be left in peace and told “just approve the comment and all this will be over”. Said person has also requested all her followers to pester me to approve her comment and therefore my phone has not stopped pinging with angry tweets, telling me that I must approve her comment.

As a matter of general principle I do not respond to harassment techniques, therefore I am extremely loathe to publish comment. If I wish to delete a comment, then that is entirely my call. I took note of comment and concerns of poster and edited my post so it neither paraphrased nor misquoted. This is my blog, predominantly for me to write about whatever subjects I feel fit and as such I reserve the right to dictate the terms of debate, in common with all blog owners.

As I suggested in my previous entry, if these rules do not suit, then perhaps this blog is not suitable for you.

A polite request

To quote the lovely Rosamundi, who when I get around to updating my blogroll, I will definitely add, I am not a Catholic blogger, but a Catholic who blogs. As one of these  pesky people, I have quite fixed views on things. That doesn’t mean that I don’t empathise with people, nothing could be further from the truth, but at the end of the day, my morality means that I do hold certain viewpoints which, along with everyone else, I have the right to articulate.

Yesterday I made a comment about Elton John’s adoption of a baby, which I believe to be morally very questionable for a variety of factors, mainly his age, his lifestyle, meaning in this case his extravagencies and penchant for faddish collections, his well-documented battles with drink and drug addiction and the fact that the child will be brought up excluded from any sort of normal upbringing and probably with minimal privacy or chance to develop his own identity. More on this in a later post.

Many people took my comments of what constitutes an ideal family situation as a direct slur upon their own situation. That was not the intention, but in common with stating any preference it stirs up strong emotions because if someone else’s choice is not the same as yours that implies indirect criticism. To use a trite example, even a statement such as “eating fish and chips out of newspaper is the only way to eat them” has potential to offend. “I only eat them on a plate, newspaper is unhygenic, are you questioning my palate, how dare you?!”

Questioning whether or not and indeed stating that I didn’t feel at all comfortable with the media and celebrity cooing over Elton’s new arrival, whether or not it was a good idea for an old man to effectively buy a baby, that ideally children should have the opportunity to develop loving relationships with both biological parents, was taken as an insult or slur upon those who are in difficult circumstances. Having previously publicly expressed disquiet about same-sex couple adoption as well as the forced closure of the Catholic adoption agencies, meant that my misgivings in Elton’s case were automatically fuelled by that favoured and overused insult of so-called liberals, “homophobia”. I’ve previously posted on this topic, however I was subject to a barrage of tweets stating “I don’t agree with Elton John’s adoption. Oh wait I do. My brain hasn’t been taken over by Catholic homophobia”, which degenerated into insults calling me “thick” and stating that resorting to a dictionary definition of homophobia (see former post) was “weak”. Ultimately I am a homophobe, a hypocrite and a bigot, because I don’t agree that a 63 year old man should be able to buy his own child and circumvent UK adoption law. Incidentally I don’t believe that Elton would have been approved for adoption in the UK, for a variety of factors amongst which gender and sexuality wouldn’t figure. But again stating that recreational drug use isn’t an ideal attribute for a parent, is an unacceptable thing to say. So is questioning whether or not two people have the right to procure a baby, take it away from its birth mother, in order to satisfy their belated longing for a child. More on that in another post.

What has saddened me hugely, is that one of my oldest and most beloved friends has taken the decision to block me from Facebook, although she did the courtesy of emailing me first, because she finds my views too difficult to take. I completely understand the decision and think its a sensible one, after all, I deliberately don’t read things that I am going to find distressing or that will rile me. Whilst I remain open-minded and read material from both the Marxist end of the spectrum to very pro-Capitalism polemics, at times I try to avoid those such as Peter Tatchell, Keith Porteous-Wood, Polly Toynbee, Dawkins and their ilk, who have as much theological literacy as my dog and simply end up infuriating me. So though I am extremely upset and saddened, I respect the decision and think it is probably the right one, and I hope I will not lose an important friendship over it.

It should be fairly obvious that I have defined views on topics such as abortion. This is my blog, it’s my rules and I dictate the topics that I wish to discuss. I would suggest to anyone who finds my views so “disgusting, vile and abhorrent” to use words flung at me yesterday, who thinks that I am “full of bile and vitriol” to go and read blogs more suited to their tastes. However when I am implored to ” back off and STOP”, and told “you are embarrassing and humiliating yourself” either when blogging or on twitter, this is something of a counterproductive approach and gives the impression of bullying. I am neither embarrassed or humiliated, but I am certainly intimidated by the insults and sheer hatred.

I have thought long and hard whether or not to shut down this blog or move away from social media, it is horrible to lose friendships and worse to face an inbox chock full of hate mail. At present I have 364 emails containing nothing but hate, expressing sentiments such as “I hope you die a horrible death at the hands of a backstreet abortionists rusty scissors”. My husband is certainly concerned to see his wife visibly upset, distressed and shaken. By highlighting this, no doubt I will invariably be accused of playing the victim status or that perhaps my views warrant such abuse, it serves me right for publicly stating such strong views, it is par for the course.

I am currently experiencing a spot of the old cognitive dissonance. When I was a child my father used to say “if you want to be liked, you’ve got to be likable”, whilst at the same time stating “it doesn’t matter what other people think, you shouldn’t care what other people have to say”. It seems to me, that in order to be acceptable, to engage in effective evangelism and apologetics, one has to win hearts and minds. The only way this seems possible is by watering down beliefs to make them more palatable. The problem is, that on certain issues, this is something of an impossibility. I cannot say “well abortion is alright, I don’t agree with it as a choice for myself but it’s fine for others”. That is totally illogical. Nor can I say “well it’s acceptable in this circumstance and that circumstance but not in this one”.  It’s an issue of moral absolutes for me.

There is a whole welter of issues that I do take an absolutist approach over. That is not to be confused with a “judgemental” approach. Stating that I grieve for the lives of the lost unborn, is not the same as condemnation of women who have taken those decisions. Wishing that we lived in a society that generally placed a higher value upon a life is not a personal slur. Believing that acts of homosexual sex constitute a sin, an act that separates us from God, is not the same as hatred, fear or contempt of a personal with homosexual inclination. In terms of “judgement” I am in no position to sit on judgement upon anyone’s soul at all and nor can I or should I speculate as to the contents of people’s hearts. I can however comment upon questionable moral actions, particularly the ones carried out by people in the public domain and which reflect upon our society. I have a right, along with everyone else, to enter into a discourse about the type of society that I would like to live in.

There is currently a debate as to whether or not Christians are subject to a degree of persecution in the UK. Though I am no Christian martyr, when expressing a commonly held Christian view, one not exclusive to Catholics, I am implored to “stop”. When I receive emails calling for my horrific and painful death or stating that I should be subject to acts of deplorable sexual violence, because of an imagined hatred of gay people and women, enough to make me want to cease blogging and cease any public Christian witness, this does nothing for the causes of tolerance and diversity. To be honest I am writing this with a huge degree of trepidation, terrified of inciting yet more scorn, hatred and contempt.

I may well take a break, for a while but the stubborn side of me is rebelling. Why should I be cowed into silence and submission by bullies whose logic and rhetoric has totally failed? Besides I want to talk about Elton John!

For those who do want to see me die at the hands of a backstreet abortionist, I am sorry that my words have incited such hatred and violence in you. I am sure that this is simply rhetoric and not a genuine emotion. All I can suggest is that you cease to read and I will endeavour to hold you in prayer.

 

Taking the bullet

Just before Christmas, my daughter was colouring in Christmas cards bought from SPUC. Though I am usually very circumspect in terms of keeping literature away from her, she caught a glimpse of the newsletter and asked “mummy what’s an abortion?”.

I’ve recently had to face a barrage of questions from her, such as “how did the baby get in your tummy” and handled them fairly deftly. I’m not a proponent of lying to children, preferring the age-appropriate response and therefore batted that one-off rather well with the “dad gave mummy a seed” response. Actually, that led to an interesting discussion about twins and multiples. Simple I thought. They should put me in charge of sex-ed for 6 year olds! No graphic explanations required, a few basic biological facts satisfied her curiosity. I came a bit unstuck a few days later however, when she started saying “if I have a husband and have babies…”. “Well you’ll need one if you are going to have babies darling, I said”. “No I won’t mummy, I’ll give myself as many seeds as I want to”. A generation ago this would have been dismissed as a 6-year-old’s whimsy, now it’s a scenario embraced as being an equally valid lifestyle option, why should she have to have a man to have a baby?

Without wishing to enter into a discourse on why single parenthood is not something I would wish for my children, I will undoubtedly raise the ire of the feminists, by my explanation that men had the seeds and women the eggs, so women needed men, ladies needed husbands, in order to make the babies. I also went on to explain that babies were very hard work as she has seen and could she imagine how difficult it would be for a lady to look after her babies if she didn’t have her husband to help her. She’s seen that first hand and stated that yes, it would be really difficult for mummy if dad wasn’t there to help with the baby. Who would give the baby the nighttime bottle? She went on to tell me “I don’t know how you’d cope with THREE children without dad to help you”. My daughter is fortunate to enjoy a loving and close relationship with both her father and step-father, so when she thought about “babies with no daddies mummy, that makes me very sad”. Of course where I did come even more unstuck is that she has picked up on the fact that this forthcoming baby is something of a surprise and not what we had planned. “How did dad give you the seed by accident mummy, tell me all about it?”. I think sooner or later “special married persons’ cuddles” are going to have to enter the conversation.

Getting back to the topic, does one tell a 6 year old what an abortion is? I briefly broadcast the question and the response was an overwhelming no, because she “wouldn’t be able to understand why”. That was an interesting and encouraging response, in that it admits that abortion is such an abhorrence, such a horrible thing, it’s not something that we should be telling children about, in the same way that I often switch the radio or TV off, if there’s a topic which might scare or alarm her. Added to which, children are natural little theologians. They automatically accept the existence of God and the concept of right from wrong. In both my pregnancies, my daughter has accepted that there is a tiny baby in mummy’s tummy, as soon as she has found out about it. We have looked at books together, detailing the growth of the baby, this week it can smile, this week it can hear, and at every stage she has embraced the baby as another person, never once asking about viability, or referring to clusters of cells. She loves looking at the pictures of the clusters of cells in rapt wonderment that those cells ARE really A BABY! No question.  Angel in the Waters is perhaps her most treasured book, she used it almost as a safety blanket throughout my last pregnancy.

So how do I tell her that some mummies choose to kill their babies? I don’t think I could, although a part of me feels that I should, not least as I don’t like withholding information or telling untruths to my child. I know her reaction would be abject horror, shock and revulsion, I know, given her temperament that she would worry about it, and she also might worry that I would do that to my baby. I think she would project her worry onto other pregnant women. I haven’t been that heavy-handed about the perils of smoking, and yet she still worries aloud when she sees adults smoking. It genuinely upsets and shocks her that people smoke. I have absolutely no idea how she would process the idea of an abortion and thus I glossed over the topic, by saying that it was something that women could do that hurt their babies and that SPUC was there to help women look after the babies in their tummies. Lame I know.

It goes to show though, that sometimes children are just spot on with their instincts. A 6-year-old instinctively and inherently knows that it is wrong for a mummy to kill a baby in her tummy, without me needing to spell it out. Perhaps I am projecting, but I wonder if the thought of infanticide might disturb her to the extent that she won’t be able to contextualise it. If women might kill the babies in their tummies, then they might also kill their children? Most of us want to protect our children from the horrors of life  until they are of an age to understand  factors such as mental illness and abortion is included in this definition.

Or should it not be a taboo horror? If abortion is healthcare, then maybe we do have to tell our children about it from an early age, although I suspect that were I to have explained exactly what an abortion was, I would have been met with horrified accusations of propaganda and emotional manipulation from the pro-choice lobby. There is a part of me that feels that if my daughter knows about abortion now then it might help confirm her adult views.

As far as both of us are concerned abortion is filicide. I have read countless mothers describe how they wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for their children, how they would fling themselves in front of a car to protect their children, how they would sacrifice their life for that of their children, the maternal (and paternal) instinct to protect is incredibly strong. Not once would they weigh up the options, is the child’s life worth saving, how would the rest of the family cope without them, no, in the heat of the moment, God-given instinct takes over and the vast majority of parents would willingly sacrifice themselves for their children without a second thought. This is why the concept of filicide is so abhorrent, because it goes against the natural order of things and against natural law. This is why we see Abraham asked to sacrifice Isaac, to demonstrate his love and fidelity to God and yet God is merciful. This is how we see God’s love for us so painfully demonstrated in the incarnation of His Son, and yet God does not kill his son, a concept which, incidentally, Dawkins has failed to grasp.

And this is why, I feel so passionately about abortion, whilst having immense sympathy with women in incredibly difficult and desperate situations, I cannot ever justify the killing of an innocent human being, the choosing to take the life of one’s child. Currently I am fretting about the possibility of flu, having read the sensationalised headlines outlining the dangers of flu for pregnant women. Over Christmas a women and her child died in childbirth after she was admitted into hospital with flu. Another woman, a mother of four, who has fortunately now recovered, faced an abortion whilst she was in a coma in order to save her life. Should the same happen to me, unlikely and melodramatic as it sounds, I have made my wishes known to my husband and I will outline them again for clarity here. My child’s life comes before mine. No question, end of story.

When I saw a haemotologist a few weeks ago, I was informed that the “normal advice for a woman in your situation would be to seriously consider terminating”. No doubt some would consider me to be stupid, foolhardy and selfish, putting my needs and wishes before that of my existing family. When I think about what could perhaps go wrong, I am admittedly scared, so most of the time, I’m attempting to put my fears out of my mind, although I think I’ll probably spend most of Lent in the confessional and I’m definitely dwelling too much on the due date of Good Friday. The reality is things should be fine, it’s just not what the doctors would have preferred and it’s part of the reason that I have taken a step back from an online group, in that I need to come to terms with this myself, without approbation or condemnation. Instinctively and intuitively, my baby, who is physically dependent upon me and who unlike me is wholly innocent, must come first. I could not choose to kill either of my children who are outside the womb in order to save my own life and the same criteria applies to my unborn child. There is no implicit criticism of any others, that is simply my choice. If I lived in Ireland, I would live in a society that would accept and respect that choice, one that will not sanction the killing of the unborn, and one that has the lowest rates of maternal deaths in the world.

Due to an oversight with the altar book, we accidentally celebrated the Feast of the Holy Innocents a day early at Mass. The slaughter of the innocents seems an appropriate moment to pause and reflect upon the 50 million lives lost to abortion in America and the 6 million plus in the UK, since we as societies embraced and accepted the notion of filicide. May they rest in peace.

The novels of Wordsworth

One of my favourite quotes from Four Weddings and a Funeral is the line uttered by Corin Redgrove when discussing the fact that he didn’t go to university. ‘University? Didn’t go myself, couldn’t see the point. What use are the novels of Wordsworth when you’re making a mint on the money markets?’

This struck a particular chord with me at the time, given that I had just taken the decision not to go to university to study English as I was working on the money markets for Lloyds bank, thoroughly enjoying both the job itself and the resulting salary. At that point in time, it made more sense to pursue a career in finance, as I was certainly earning the same amount as a graduate without any of the resulting debt. My boyfriend and I grinned at each other in recognition.

Richard Curtis clearly didn’t mean this line to be taken literally, quite the opposite, the character who uttered the line was a caricature of an ill-educated, misogynistic thick-skinned upper-class ignoramus. Had he been to university then he would have known that Wordsworth hadn’t actually written any novels. The implication being that those who haven’t been are somehow lacking refinement and knowledge. It was something of a sneer by the member of the liberal intelligensia.

This is a prejudice that I have suffered from almost all my adult working life. My husband used to belong to an on-line dating site. Being an intellectual, cerebral sort of chap, he had listed that a university education was a desirable quality in any potential spouse. He admitted that had he known that I didn’t have a degree when he first met me, then he might well have presumed me to perhaps not being intellectually suited to or compatible with him, as by his own admission, romantically speaking, he prefers intelligent woman. When he discovered that I didn’t have a degree, he decided that I was something of an anomaly.

At this point, it seems wise to give a brief précis of my career history to date. Despite having the grades to go to university, I decided not to go for various reasons. Career-wise, up until this point, it’s never held me back apart from some condescension from various city colleagues. From temping on the money markets of Lloyds I then was offered a job with the top accountancy firm in the UK. My good A Level grades meant that I was able to study for the ACCA qualification at the same time as being paid a decent city salary. ACCA is almost identical to the qualification of ICAEW, it means one is a certified accountant as opposed to a chartered accountant, however entry level to chartered accountancy requires a degree in any discipline and thus has more kudos. After a few years where I was stuck on an infamous insolvency case, which is never out of the media, I decided that accountancy wasn’t for me after all, had a severe case of itchy feet and restlessness, I felt that I had missed out on the university experience, on three years of fun and travel and thus got a job as cabin crew, flying all over the world, generally having a whale of a time. Again, no degree was necessary, a degree in tourism wouldn’t guarantee you a job whereby personality and a presentable appearance were the main selection criteria. Knowing about the intricacies of the industry may be interesting, but of no value when you have to deal with either a drunken passenger or safety issue at 35,000 feet. The job is all about thinking on one’s feet, handling difficult situations and keeping calm, focused and professional, no matter what. An ability to get on with anyone and everyone is also a huge advantage. No degree can equip you with those skills and the salary is not enough to merit taking on a significant debt. Those who fly do it for the lifestyle, because they genuinely enjoy the job and the travel perks, not for financial gain. I know I did and at times I still have a lingering regret that I no longer grace the skies with my presence!

‘Real life’ encroached however, a mortgage called, so I reluctantly decided it was time to re-enter the “real world”. Having decided that accountancy was not for me, I then decided to do a Pitman Executive PA Diploma, to give me some marketable skills, notably becoming a shorthand and Powerpoint whizz. Together with my former financial background, I had absolutely no problem at all in landing fantastic jobs in economic research. I worked for Warner Brothers, two investment banks and in Private Equity. It was my financial skills and my almost fluent French that were of interest, the PA skills were really the icing on the cake.

City life was really not compatible with the demands of a young baby, not least in terms of the time spent commuting and after a brief return to work in a company that was less than flexible, I became a stay at home mother for a few years. Circumstances dictated that I needed to return to work and my skills and previous experience meant that I landed roles as an office manager, not earning city money admittedly, but still a decent salary of over £30K. A degree was not an issue, nor was the fact that I had taken 2 years out of the workplace.

Marrying and moving to a new area coincided with the credit crunch, so the Office Manager, Executive Assistant roles to be found locally were non-existent. In addition I noticed that adverts for these roles specified that a degree was preferable. I found applications rejected on the grounds that I did not have a degree; some over-zealous HR admin assistant assigned the role of filtering through numerous applications had simply set-aside those CVs without a degree. All of a sudden, not having a degree was suddenly proving to be a hindrance. A degree is completely unnecessary for the role of Office Manager or Executive PA. It might indicate a level of knowledge, intelligence and critical thinking, it’s “nice” to have, but in all my years of working I have never once needed a degree to be able to carry out my job to a high standard. I read extensively, am interested in current affairs and politics and am able to engage in intelligent and informed discourse. Knowing the qualities of epic poetry and being able to discuss the merits of Aristotle and Plato is a worthy and admirable achievement, but in a day-to-day busy office environment, is utterly irrelevant. It doesn’t help you organise a staff of 200 nor does it assist with budgeting.

So I have some sympathy with today’s young school leavers who seem to need a degree if they are not to be written off or consigned to unskilled labour. In today’s climate, it is unlikely that I’d be able to have had the successful career that I have had to date without a degree. Partly due to the current emphasis upon a degree being a necessary qualification for entry level to any career, a legacy left by the previous administration with their 50% quota, I am now embarking upon a degree. Admittedly another motivation is that I wish to pursue a career in teaching, for which a degree is an essential pre-requisite. After all our children deserve nothing less than highly qualified professionals with an in-depth specialist subject knowledge. Finally, I have always had a passion for literature and I figure that if I am going to spend 3 years losing potential income as well as gaining a not insubstantial debt, then it may as well be in a subject for which I have enthusiasm. My only problem has been deciding between English, History, Philosophy, Theology and French, I’m probably better suited to the American Liberal Arts model. There is some degree of selfishness in my decision. I am doing this, not only because I feel a vocation towards young people, because I think that I have much to offer the profession but also because at the moment it fits in well with my current family circumstances. With young children it seems the ideal time to fit in study and of course if I am successful then teaching is great profession to be able to fit in around the needs of a young family.

When the current fee proposals came in I was outraged. In an ideal world, there should be no tuition fees, there should be access to Higher Education to all who are eligible and able to benefit from it. Therein lies the problem. It is not feasible for the government to be able to provide free university education for 50% of the population. The answer seems to lie in either fewer people going to university, or students, who will benefit from their education in terms of earning capacity, to bear the majority of costs. As someone who aspires to teach, if successful I will be earning significantly less than in my former career and the thought of a potential £30K debt on top of that was an absolute anathema, as was the idea that I would put myself into huge amounts of debt for a career in public service. Certainly I would not have chosen the university that I am currently attending, who are 3rd in the country for my subject, behind Oxbridge and who will be charging the full amount. In fact, Oxbridge was available to me but not accessible on the grounds of logistics, as opposed to money.

Having studied the proposals in depth, I have come to the conclusion that though not ideal, actually they are significantly fairer and more workable than the alternative of a graduate tax. As a mature student with limited means and on a low family income, I would be significantly better off. My first 2 years tuition fees would be paid, I would qualify for a higher maintenance grant and my repayment terms would be much more favourable than at present. If I qualify as a teacher, under the current system I will pay back £49.41 a month. Under the new fees this drops to £4.41 a month. There is absolutely no disincentive for the poorest to attend an Russell League or 1994 Group University. This is where the coalition has worked well, the Lib Dems need to be given credit for softening the original plans and for ensuring that there is no bar for the very poorest students, though the middle-income students will be hit the hardest. It takes courage, honesty and humility for anyone to concede that they were wrong. The Lib Dem ideology with regards to tuition fees was not wrong in itself, more foolhardy; as Baroness Williams suggested, they were perhaps foolish or precipitous in signing their pre-election pledge, without first being fully aware of the facts, namely the crippling amount of debt that the UK finds itself in.

It’s a fudge, it doesn’t go as far as the Browne report (commissioned by Labour) suggests, in that it doesn’t completely lift caps, but it is infinitely more progressive than the current system we have in place.  What I would like to see is fewer courses of negligible value, such as the degree in Homeopathy currently offered by Thames Valley University or the degree in Travel and Tourism offered by the University of Hertfordshire. Perhaps if we accepted that a degree is not an essential pre-requisite for a successful career, perhaps if university places were limited to those most suited to academic study, on the grounds of ability, not money, perhaps if not going to university was not seen as a second-class option, perhaps if people didn’t see university education as an automatic right, regardless of ability, then free university education would once more become available. With a 50% university attendance rate, a degree is rapidly becoming as devalued a coinage as the former ‘gold standard’ A Level. A necessary piece of paper and an expensive one at that. With a higher level of fees, minds will certainly be focussed upon whether or not this a worthwhile use of three years and of funds. For those aspiring to Oxbridge the answer will remain the same. For those wishing to study a degree in Popular Music at Northampton University, alternative options may now seem infinitely more attractive and sensible.

In the meantime I’ll stick to the novels of Wordsworth. Shouldn’t take too long.