Tortoises, homesickness and the rollercoaster of the anglican communion

This week, characterised as it has been by humidity, holy huddles and driving deadlines, has been on the lower end of the "wow-aren't-I-having-a-great-time" scale. There have been extreme highlights, however, and they have all been unexpected.

But first, tortoises.

We had a storm the other night. It was a big thunderstorm, and I spent the duration of it sleeping on the carpeted bathroom floor. When we went down for our breakfast the next day, our host Lisa said she was a bit worried that when it had started raining, she realised she hadn't brought the tortoises in and she didn't know if they liked getting wet. It was the sweetest thing - but it also made me realise that I should have had faith that at some point God would reveal why I was inspired to add tortoises to my Google news feed.

Then, later that day, we passed a sign that said roast tortoise, until we got closer, and realised it said roast topside.

Purple highlights - and lowlights.

I felt extraordinarily out of sorts the day after the storm. Very homesick and having forgotten my happy pills two days in a row, my head felt more thundery than the skies. The topic of the day was rather intense - basically, the abuse of women, both in the wider world and in the church. It was an extremely confronting topic. I assigned myself to covering it, and attend the Big Top where the bishops and spouses were put together.

I have sworn the Official Anglican Secrets Act so I'm not allowed to reveal details, lest I be hurled into the fiery pits forever. I can however reveal that there was a dramatisation of the Gospels that wove together the story of the woman who was to be stoned for adultery, Jairus' daughter, the prodigal son (only this one was the prodigal daughter) and the woman who touched the hem of Jesus' robe to seek relief from her haemorrhaging. It was... shattering.

It wasn't just the powerful acting and the even more powerful denoument where the women are healed and revived, only to remain in the way of women across the world: tolerated only when young, useful or invisible.

It wasn't just the emotional temperature that gradually rose in the tent as this group of immensely powerful people were confronted with the hypocrisy of the church.

It was knowing that here I was, face to face with flesh and blood sisters who will go back to communities where women are traded, beaten, used for sex, reviled, raped as instruments of warfare, and forgotten about, again and again. The moving story I watched on stage was the reality of womanhood for many in that tent.

I have always been a feminist. I've always cared deeply and become very angry. I've always had a strong intellectual grounding and a visceral desire for equality for women. But on Tuesday, God broke my heart for it, and I realised, it's not enough to just care, or get upset, or shed tears.

Women like me need to be confronted with women like them - the interconnectedness and the bigness of that to which we belong came together very powerfully this week. I hope to be able to listen carefully to where the Holy Spirit leads me in this - not for my sake, but because it is what the Lord requires. You cannot look at these women and not require it of yourself.

A story I wrote on it was later quashed. I won't go into why. But that was a definite lowlight but again, if I care for my eternal soul I dare not go into detail.

Yesterday I was able to film the Archbishop of Melbourne with some of the bishops of the Sudan. It was very moving also.

Today I was able to get my own back on that reporter. Today was very important - the press conference was along the theme of human sexuality, which is of course The Big One (as far as the media are concerned, anyway). This woman didn't bother turnign up for the very encouraging and frank presentations by those giving the conference today. she turned up fifteen minutes late with her lunch in her hand and then jumped up and down ('pick me! pick me!') with her hand in the air... and was overlooked.

Incensed that her Divine Right to be Picked At A Press Conference had been thus transgressed she flounced up to the media officer for the Primate of Australia and asked why journalists weren't being given an opportunity to ask questions (that is,all the journalists except the fifteen or so who did ask questions because they were there in a timely manner). I butted in (now there's a hint) and told her that with all due respect, if she was going to turn up ten minutes late she shouldn't expect to be given any favours at all. I don't know that she responded - I don't care. Media Officer was very happy with me.

It is incredibly hot and sticky and it smells like barbecue all over the campus. Before it smelled like burning horse poo so I guess that's an improvement.

A Very Big Church and Aussie Bishops

Yesterday began with the normal rush to have breakfast done in time for Jane to head up the hill on the bus in time for her to get the mill that is Lambeth and all that involves. Each day is somewhat calmer in getting started, although I am usually out the door by around 9.30. Yesterday I was off a bit earlier than that as I had to catch the train to London. I got myself all prepared in time, and with lots of time to spare to buy my ticket and arrived at the station only to find the ticket booth closed. The only other member of the station staff said to me, and the many other people waiting to buy tickets not to worry as the ticket salesman would be back in time. Needless to say that he wasn't and along with others I had to scramble to get a ticket from a machine at the front of the station. While I was buying my ticket the train pulled into the station, and I managed to get on with a minute to spare. The best laid plans nearly come undone. Other than this little hurdle I had a really good day.

The train journey was as pleasant as it has been the other times that I have headed into London. My goals for the day were to go to St Paul's Cathedral and then to go to Greenwich to the Royal Observatory. The train got into London just after 11.30 and I headed off to the cathedral from Charing Cross. It took about 40 minutes to walk there. As I walked up Ludgate towards the Cathedral I was stunned at the presence of the building has over the streets around it. It is a truly imposing building in a way that the older cathedrals that I have visited didn't seem to have. They are all beautiful and stunning and clearly set out to do what their builders wanted them to do, but there is something at St Paul's that is almost overwhelming. And this is all before I have even got in the front doors and paid my 10 pounds to get in. 

Just after I had walked in the doors and was just starting to get an impression of the space inside the Cathedral, there was an announcement that a communion service would be starting in 10 minutes and that all were welcome to join in. Well I wasn't going to miss out on that. While the service was not meant to be anything other than a normal daily communion service it was very special to be able to worship under the dome in St Paul's Cathedral, London. While I was sitting there waiting for the service to begin, I was able to take in some of the  different things that make up the interior of the Cathedral. Again, the inside is truly beautiful, very Roman in style, almost unanglican you could say, but I loved it. disappointingly, the service was just rattled off the priest who was taking it, leaving no space for anyone pray during the liturgy. It was all over in 20 minutes flat and that included at least 60 people receiving the sacrament. For all that though it was worth putting up with someone almost going through the motions to have worshipped in that place. 

After the service I was able to take my time and wander around and discover all the many things that make up this most amazing place. This took quite a while to get around. To finish off my time in St Paul's I was able to walk up all the staircases that take you to the golden gallery which almost at the very top of St Paul's. 500 steps to get there and going through two other galleries on the way. One is inside the church, called the Whispering Gallery and is at the point where there the dome meets the walls. The next two are outside, the first being the Stone Gallery which you walk around the outside of the dome, which is 119 steps above the Whispering Gallery and then anther 152 to get to the top. With the 258 to get from the floor to the Whispering Gallery, that is over 500. I was a bit puffed by the time that I got to the top, and a very kind man took a picture of me looking out over London. Proof for you to see. 

This had all taken so long that my plans to get to Greenwich had run out of time, as I had to get back to Canterbury so that Jane and I could go and have dinner with all of the Australian Bishops. I don't know, you go to anther country to avoid the people you work with and get stuck with them anyway. It turned out to be a very pleasant evening, catching up with Bp Paul Richardson who was on the same table as us, he was an honourary Australian for the night.  We headed off when enough red wine had been consumed and the all the unplanned speeches began.

Canterbury Tales

We have both spent the last few days in Canterbury since our jaunt to London. Friday I wandered up to the oldest parish church in England only to find it closed, but I had a good wander around the church, and you can very clearly see where different bits have been added on at different times in history. Friday, along with last few days have actually been quite warm, unpleasantly so. Not so much hot as we would be getting at home at the height of summer, but very, very humid. I have been walking around with a lot just to see what is here. In the end the heat and humidity beat after what had been long day I had some quiet time until it cooled down in the evening and then went for another long walk around Canterbury, finding all sorts of interesting old buildings and left over bits of places. It was very pleasant.

Saturday morning I again headed out to St Martin's Church and found it open this time. The building dates back to at the very least, the year 580 as a church and probably longer than that. The oldest part of the building was in use in the 370's and was built during the Roman period. That finished in 410.  There are bits and pieces of this building dating from all over the place. After leaving there and having had a pleasant chat to a couple of members of the church, I made my way to the Roman Museum of Canterbury. While it was interesting, with many household style bits and pieces there, although they had on display a bowl that scratched into the bottom a Chi Rho, or the first two letters of Christ in Greek. It was dug up from a grave. In the last part of the museum there were the remains of the floor a Roman house which had a mosaic that was in the floor. This was revealed when a large part of the old city, inside the walls of Canterbury was bombed during World War 2. 

After leaving there, this led to more wandering around discovering all sorts of things from the past, such the mill races from water wheel driven mills and then into the hospital of St Thomas A'Beckett. This and the last place that I went and spent time at on Saturday, Greyfriars Chapel, turned out to be very special, well for me at least. The hospital was built to provide a place of hospitality (hence hospital) for poor pilgrims who were making their way to the Cathedral to visit the Shrine of Thomas A'Beckett. It has been there for over eight hundred years doing pretty much the same thing ever since. Today it provides a home for a small number of poor people in Canterbury and is looked after by the local parish and the members of the Franciscan Community that has been re-established in Canterbury. I sat in the chapel, that is still used, and found that it is a very special place. It was a place that you could feel the presence of God quite strongly. A place that has been continually looking after people in God's name for over eight hundred years. One of the people who was guiding people around the hospital recommended that a visit to the Greyfriars Chapel would also be worthwhile. And it was. The chapel is built over a branch of the River Stour and I was told that it may originally have been built as a mill and had an extra story or floor some time in the past. There is a picture of the chapel over the stream. It was lovely inside and the brothers and sisters are praying specially fort the work of Lambeth. I intend to go to church there on Wednesday lunchtime.  The chapel is also set in grounds that are covered in wildflowers and this is almost exactly in the centre of Canterbury. 

Yesterday, we both went to the Cathedral for the main service. It was very special to be able to worship in the Cathedral. Archbishop Rowan presided and the dean, whose name I didn't get was the preacher. Of course the Cathedral was full of bishops from all over the world, although some were visiting local parishes. Our afternoon was spent getting on a local bus that first took us Whitstable and the seaside. It was a somewhat different experience to what we have at home. One of the pictures posted today is of the Whitstable beach. After this we caught the bus again and had a round trip journey back to Canterbury and a quiet dinner in a local Indian restaurant and a sleep. 

Today it is still very sticky, although a cooler change is due some time today. I have had a pretty quiet day and I am off to London again tomorrow. 

I never thought to ask him about the shoes

Fifteen minutes to blog about seven vital years

Yesterday was a massive day, not least because of the logistics of organising 650 odd bishops and their spouses and sundry guests to London, whereby they would hold up traffic for half an hour and then be thanked for it by the Prime Minister.

It was an astonishing time, though, and cemented in me that understanding that this thing we call the Anglican Communion must survive. The world needs us to put our differences aside and, as Bishop Chickera said nearly two weeks ago, make our mission to be the voice of the voiceless our primary objective.

Anyway, enough preaching. You can read the articles at www.lambethconference.org.

I received an invitation to Buckingham Palace to have tea with the Queen, but I politely declined and instead went with David to the Tower of London where various queens were either beheaded or displayed disturbingly bloodthirsty tendencies. Sproggies, if you want to know if we got you what you wanted... you'll have to wait and see! (And for the non-sproggies, no it was not a pilfered royal head.)

We walked to the Tower the eighteen thousand miles (or so it felt) by the Thames, via a shoe shop so that I could buy a pair of thongs (or "flip flops" as we poms call them, har har) so that I could even up the blisters all over my feet. Now they are on the side, the bottom *and* the top. Jolly good.

I had to use the public conveniences, which patently aren't. Several miles apart and guarded by rabid dogs, they require you to pay for the privilege of not piddling your pants. Inflation has wreaked its damage - whereas my mother used to spend a penny, I was required to spend fifty of them.

Because I was crippled and had a headache from the very shouty Beefeater who took us around the Tower, we got a Real London Cab back to Charing Cross Station, with a Real London Cabbie who had a Real London Accent. He said things like "innit". It was very cool. He laughed a lot when we said something about Fenchurch St Station and he said, "Do you know it" and we both said together, "Only from Monopoly!"

I'm off to hear about how the world is going to hell in a very hot handbasket. Toodle pip.

(And tell daddy I think it's rubbish that I'm turning back into a pom. Nevah.)

London and another Pile of Ruins

Yesterday was a long day, heading off to London on the train. This was a very pleasant journey. The train took me to Charing Cross Station, which to my surprise let me out at the Strand, only two hundred metres from Trafalgar Square and the heart of London. Rather than go anywhere in particular I just started to wander around and find things. Which of course I did. I walked along Westminister, past all sorts of Gov't buildings, not having any idea of what most of them were for. Very quickly I came to the Houses of Parliament, which unfortunately were closed to public and will be until August. It seemed like a good idea to have lunch next them outside the Jewel House. It was very busy, all the time. 

Once I had lunch headed towards the Thames just to see where I would be on the other side of the river and was outside Lambeth Palace. A long slow walk along the south bank of the Thames lead me up towards the London Eye. I thought about going for a ride, until I saw how long the line was. I continued walking around, beginning to get feel for the central part of London. I crossed back to the northern side of the river and made my way back to Admiralty Arch and then into St James. After enjoying the gardens for a while I made my way down to Buckingham Palace. The flag was up, so she was home. There was a whole lot of people all dressed up and on their way into the Palace for some sort of do. 

Once I had taken the obligatory pictures of the palace I made my way back alongside the park and into the National Gallery, which is at Trafalgar Square. I then spent a very enjoyable couple of hours looking at paintings from the 1200's to the early 1900's. Some very famous artists where shown on the walls. Rembrant, Turner, Monet, Manet, Degas, Leonardo da Vinci, Michaelangelo and many others. It was a bit crowded, but a very pleasant time. It was quite late in the day by this stage so I hopped back on the train to go back to Canterbury, which took nearly two hours. Jane and I finished of the day with a quiet dinner. 

Today I spent in Canterbury and after a lot a walking around this morning I went to the St Augustine's Abbey ruins. There is something very sad about wandering around this place that was a thriving religious community for 900 years and was then wiped away with the stroke of pen. Then the remains were taken away over the next twenty years to be recycled into other buildings, such as castles along the coast and in Calais. It was quite a special time to be there where the cradle of catholic Christianity began in England. There were the graves of many famous names in the life of the church in England still in the grounds of the Abbey and of some of the Kings of Kent during the 600's, 700's and 800's as well as the graves of the King and Queen of Kent who welcomed Augustine into England in 697. There were ruins from the time when Augustine arrived right through until the time the monastary was dissolved in 1538. I spent well over two hours at the site. It was well into the later part of the afternoon by the time I finished at the Abbey. 

On my way back to the room as I came through the Westgate, which is quite near to where we are staying, a truck got stuck. Waiting to get through the gate was a double decker bus. I have been waiting for an opportunity to get a picture a bus going through the gate and I have included one here. It is almost as of the maximum size for a double decker bus was designed to be able to go through this gate.

We are both heading off to London tomorrow. 

One always wears killer heels to dine with the Archbishop of Canterbury

The Anglican Communion may move slowly...

...but this conference doesn't.

I only have time for a very quick blog before I rush off to my next engagement, listening to evangelical emerging church (hero of mine) Brian McLaren speak.

I've written about five stories today, run myself ragged chasing down Archbishops (who can only be tracked if you decode which Indaba group they are in and then stake them out as they exit their discussions, in no mood to talk to journalists).

What came out of that was a lovely story of reconciliation between the churches of Japan and Korea - certainly a testament to the conference themes of forgiveness, listening, and long term commitment to dialogue and relationship.

I had a wonderful time at the Canterbury Cathedral yesterday. The atmosphere was taut with expectation as the bishops left their retreat behind and joined in the focused business of the conference. The worship itself was magnificent, with music from all over. There's a story somewhere - I'll link to it later.

I then had a hush hush lunch at Old Lambeth Palace but I'm only going to post a photograph of me in front of the building, and no further detail, or I shall have to kill you all!

Today I had the great privilege of interviewing the Archbishop of Capetown about the Indaba process. As well as being movie-star good looking, he has a natural warmth and charisma about him that is most impressive.

I had a cream tea in Canterbury with David this afternoon as a bit of a break. Other than that, I've been on the go since 8.15, and I won't stop until about 11 tonight. I'm a wee bit tired.

The Cathedral

Today was a day spent wholly in Canterbury. Yesterday, Sunday was spent going to church, worshipping in a near 1000 year old building and it felt perfectly normal, apart from a few small language and wording differences to what we are used to at home. The rest of the day was spent fairly quietly with Jane very busy at the Cathedral in the morning and with the conference getting going properly. 

Today, Monday, I headed down to Canterbury Cathedral. I would have to say that the experience was really quite amazing. The ceiling was impossibly tall it seemed at beautiful just to look at. I must have spent and hour and half just quietly wandering around the inside of the building, constantly coming across things that were special or beautiful or just made one stop to think about the events and people and the way that they have used the the place over time. Some of the special places in the cathedral were seeing the place where Thomas A'Beckett was murdered and where Archbishop Robert Runcie and Pope John Paul II prayed together. The martyrs chapel in the crypt was was also a special place. But just being there at the heart of our spiritual tradition was worth it. 

After spending such a long time inside, I spent about another hour just walking around the outside of the cathedral and taking in the way that time has treated the building. There is another period of restoration going on around the outside, cleaning away two centuries of pollution and grime to leave behind a creamy coloured stone, which gives an impression of what the cathedral looked like in earlier times. It was delightful walking around the cloister where once there were monks that were a part of the priory community. It was very soothing. One of the photos that I have put up today is a part of the cloister. 

All over the cathedral there are glimpses of what it looked like before the reformation where windows have been saved that date back to the 13th century, rediscovered paintings that were on the wall that have been covered literally for centuries. Down in the crypt there was a place where the whitewash had fallen away to show paintings of Tudor roses and other decorations. Yet even without all that artwork there is a special serenity about being in this Cathedral. There wasn't the same overwhelming wow of light and space that Salisbury Cathedral has about, but it is much higher, very long and very tall to the screen that separates the nave from the choir. then there is just as much again on the other side of the screen, chapels, tombs, and special places just to be. The other bit of fun was finding a piece of graffiti from 1604.

Tomorrow I am off to London for the first time. 

Another Day, Another Castle (or 2)

I set off this morning for the town of Deal. This is a little town on the Kent coast. I was heading for the Castle at Deal, which was ordered to be built by Henry the eighth. This was to defend England from the French and Spanish. It is one of a series of Castles right along the south east coastline. It is nothing like what we would imagine a castle looks like. No enormously tall keep like I saw at Rochester and Dover. Deal Castle is lower in height than the houses that have since been built near the castle, and they are only two or three stories high. Also instead of being square or dominating a hill top, it is right next to the beach and rounded on all sides with a deep straight walled dry moat going all the way round the building. Unlike the castles of earlier times, this castle was built fire canons rather than defend from rocks and soldiers armed with swords and spears. Being much younger than Rochester or Dover, the stone work is in much better condition that the other castles I have seen so far. It was never needed to defend England from invaders, but was fought over during the civil war of the 17th century, being in the hands of both the Royalists and the Roundheads. The saddest things about the place was that much of the stone came from monasteries that were destroyed when Henry dissolved the last of the monasteries in 1538. The castle was begun to be built in early 1540. It is thought that the stone came from the monastery of St Augustine in Canterbury. I have put in a picture of a piece of carved stone in the walls of the castle.

After looking at Deal Castle, I headed a little further south to Walmer, which was another castle built at the same time, but this place had not been used just as a castle. Sometime during the 18th century, it was begun to be converted into a semi grand country house for the Warden of the Cinque Ports, which cover south east England. These are towns such as Deal, Sandwich, Dover, Rye and some other places I can't think of just at the moment. The house was full of beatiful furniture and paintings. At different times, the Duke of Wellington, William Pitt the Younger, Sir Winston Churchill, Sir Robert Menzies and the Queen Mother were all Wardens of the Cinque Ports and all but Churchill lived in the Castle to some degree. The Duke of Wellington and one of his nieces layed out a series of lovely gardens to walk through and a woodland walk to make your way through. It was a very pleasant time, and I must have spent nearly three hours there. 

On my way back to Canterbury, I made some detours into some of the smaller villages just to have a sticky and drove down some "very" narrow country lanes and wondered where on earth I was heading. Then this evening I picked up Jane from the conference and we went back to Sandwich which is a beautiful Mediaeval and Tudor period town. We had fish and chips sitting on the quay over the River Stour.

 

The real work begins now...

The bishops finished their retreat today, and after the big plenary tomorrow, the hard work of the conference will begin.

Yesterday was a lot of fun. As well as the more mundane stuff of updating the site and getting my administration in form, I had to chase up some stories. By the end of the day, we needed an update on the retreat, so I decided to go and chase it up. When I left the building in which I'm working, coincidentally all the bishops were coming back from retreat for their dinner, so I decided to doorstop a whole ton of them.

The first I came to was Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church. Then I found Bishop Michael Hough from Ballarat. I thought, "Two caucasians, hmmm - better get some diversity" so I stopped someone else who just happened to be the Archbishop of Myanmar! I was able to tell him how we in Australia are very aware of the situation there and how closely we follow it. My final (or so I thought) bishop was Archbishop Sebastian Bakare of Harare. Fancy chancing on that quality lot by simply picking at random! Still, it's hard to pick anyone at random here and not find someone outstanding.

So, feeling rather pleased with myself, I took my soundbites off to the news room where equally coincidentally, the Episcopal Church's unofficial briefing was taking place. I even got to ask a sensible question. I headed back to my office to write it all up - and there in the foyer was the Archbishop of Canterbury. So I asked him how *he* thought it was going, and he was very jolly about it. He must have been absolutely exhausted.

This afternoon I'm covering one of the Spouses' self select sessions, and this one's on Mission to Streetworkers. Should be quite interesting. Then this evening I'm going to a gathering of Aussies at the conference, somewhere posh I think, and then there's a knees up with the comms people at a pub later. Should be fun!

I Came, I Saw, I Ruined!

Once again, I set to find some Roman ruins, in the name of a villa  near the village of Eynsford. This is the same Villa I have been trying to get to for the last three days. Today, I didn't get lost at all. Maybe I am beginning to work out where I am at last. I got there without any dramas, it took a while though. I drove the narrowest road that I have yet come across, room for one car and one car only in many spots. I got there, and the place is closed for renovations. It will reopen next week, when we no longer have the hire car. I am not meant to visit this place. 

Once having got over one's disappointment I went back into the village of Eynsford, which had a lovely church, which was much better cared for that many of the other churches that I have been having a sticky beak at this week. It felt like a church that people went to and loved. I had a chat to one of the ladies who were cleaning the church and doing the flowers ready for Sunday. It was a very nice little interlude.

From there I set off to Rochester, where there is a a castle and a cathedral right next to each other. Rochester is not that far from London and where the most recalcitrant bishop in England is at the moment. The castle was interesting, quite different to what we experienced at Dover Castle. Rochester castle is in many ways a ruin. When you go inside, you can only move around what are now the exterior walls of the keep, the central part of the castle. All the surfacing has gone from the walls and it is very rough to look at and touch. Once again though, it is a place replete with history. King John lay siege to the castle during one of the rebellions and damaged part of the outer wall. It was huge, and now the grounds only comprise the what was the inner bailey. 

After leaving the Castle, I wandered over the Cathedral, which was only 50 metres from the gates to the Castle. Compared to the other two cathedrals that we have been looking at, it doesn't look to be that big a deal in comparison, but was just beautiful inside. The rood screen almost completely conceals that chancel and sanctuary. What was nice though, was that it felt like a living parish church as well as being a cathedral. It was well worth the visit. One small treat that was in the cathedral was part of a 13th century wall painting that was discovered when a pulpit was moved during the 1930's. 

The last part of the day involved driving from Rochester back along the A2 to Canterbury and then though the city and out towards the coast again heading towards Sandwich which is right on the coast. Just outside of Sandwich are the ruins of the Roman fort called Richborough. There is not a lot left of the fort, but a large part of the third century walls that were built to keep the Saxon raiders away. In the walls of the fort there is the remains a church that was built by St Augustine around 605 AD. It was knocked down for some reason down during the 1700's. The town of Sandwich is quite lovely, and I am taking Jane back there tomorrow all things being equal. 

To finish off with, here are another couple of pictures from today.

Biting the hand you wish would feed you

While the bishops are in retreat, the biggest news out of the conference seems to be what the press are up to while they are waiting for news.

One reporter is fixated on the presence of a security fence which, on a very open campus, serves to help control some of the flow between facilities and presumably protect the lavish amount of technical equipment servicing the Big Blue House wherein our Episcopal bears will meet from time to time. She appears to have taken it as a personal affront. If a ribbon would have done, I'm a bit puzzled as to why a fence is so awful, if she was going to respect that boundary, after all. Anyway, they need a fence to control all those rabbits.

Another reporter, whom I have been keen to look up whilst in England, was huddled with a group of other journalists. I took the time to go and say hello, as a fellow journalist, so I bounded downstairs in my usual way (which I am coming to understand in England is viewed as a little brash!) and rolled up to the huddle and said a hearty, "Hello! I've been looking out for you all and wanted to introduce myself." The reporter turned her face to me, looked me up and down, frowned, said a curt, "Hello," and then turned away to continue her conversation. There was other shaking of hands with those other gathered (particularly charming Church Times fellow) and I bid my goodbyes. The reporter I had so wished to meet did not deign to say anything.

Given the beforementioned disgruntlement at the lack of availability of information and connection, one would think that if reporters were keen to engage with the conference, they might find time to be minimally polite to those wearing the coveted red lanyards.

On a brighter note, I interviewed (briefly, and probably very badly) the very charming Mrs Jane Williams, who is convening the Spouses' Conference, yesterday. Last night she launched her book, "Marriage, mitres and being myself". She's clearly very adept at being careful with the press but she's hugely accommodating. And had I been able to capture the look in her eyes as much as the words, I suspect the story would be much better. I'll put a link up when it is live, later.

I saw a squirrel yesterday. It bounded right across the path in front of me. They are very pretty, squirrels.

Battle Fields and Abbeys

Today again I set to find some Roman ruins. One of the things that is on my list of things to do while we are here in England. Got lost again. I ended up fifty miles south of where I thought I was heading, so I decided to go somewhere else. My sense of direction is most unusually out of wack. I never get lost (almost anyway). My excuse is that the sun is in the wrong place and there are "too" many roundabouts when driving on one's own. 

All was not lost, even though I was. When I eventually found a bit of road that I could pull up on, I discovered that I was not too far from a town called Battle. It is just up the road from a seaside town called Hastings. So I headed out in East Sussex for Battle going through all sorts of Villages and stopping to look at the odd 12th century church here and there. Heaven really. Mum (Gran) may have worked out by now that I am talking about the Battle of Hastings. When I got there I found the remains of a very grand Abbey set on the hilltop where the Battle of Hastings had taken place. Genna and Izzy, Gran will be able to explain what the Battle of Hastings was all about. 

I was able to walk around the hillside where William the Conqueror and his soldiers and fought their way to the top of the hill to fight with the English under King Harold, which they did three times, and imagine something of what it must have been like. There is no signs of the battle today though. After William had become the King of England, he ordered a group of Benedictine Monks to build a Monastery on the top of the hill where the battle had taken place. The Altar for the original church at the Abbey was placed on the spot where it was believed Harold had been killed. Sadly the monastery was dissolved during the reformation and many of the buildings were destroyed, the church completely.  I was able to wander around the ruins for a long time and think about what it must have been like in it's heyday. 

Here are a couple of pictures, one of the battle field and one of a part of the building that the monks lived in.

By the way, I forgot to mention that yesterday I popped into the local parish church near where we are staying. It is called St Dunstan's. The church dates back to the 11th Century. During the 1400's a local family built a chantry chapel on the side and I found when I went into the chapel that it was dedicated to St Thomas More. I couldn't work out why this would be until I found some information to say that his head had been placed in the crypt of the chapel as a relic. All sorts of bits the history that I have read about and studied for years and years is becoming a whole lot more real. Tomorrow, once again I set out to find some Roman ruins.

I am here for a reason, after all

Yesterday the conference began, with the usual logistical hiccups, joyful reunions and bemused perusing of maps and handbooks that comes with a conference of this size. There are around 650 bishops and then there are the spouses, the staff offering interpreting, media support, technical support, administrative support, hospitality, and the volunteers and stewards shepherding disoriented pilgrims over the verdant campus of the University of Kent.

While I had been quite nervous, once I got here and the media team made me welcome, I found many faces with whom I was familiar. I've been able to say hello to the Bishop of Jerusalem, Suheil Dawani and his beautiful wife Shafeeqa, who I interviewed this year; I've met Bp Lindsay Urwin who I remember beaming out at me from the Credo tapes, I've introduced myself to about twenty unfamiliar bishops, and I've met the Archbishop of Canterbury... so for day two, I'm not doing too badly!

And of course, there is the usual Aussie contingent who are practically running the show.

Up in the media room, I'm supporting the new media team, where we will be putting together the Lambeth Daily, keeping the news screens updated, and various other internet and intranet related activities. I'm also helping out with some of the external media stuff, joining with the team to report on the vast array of interesting and very international things that are happening here. This afternoon I am doing a brief interview with the ABofC's wife Jane Williams, who has written a book called "Marriage, mitres and being myself". I'm a bit nervous about that although I believe she is quite charming.

From a Diocesan point of view, I am here to help our own Archbishop Freier (and the other bishops) and also to give an Australian perspective on the conference and provide a news service back home.

Last night all the bishops congregated for the welcome. The Archbishop of Canterbury spoke with his usual self deprecatory wit. The singing was rousing, if tinged with a little jet lag.

One of the highlights of the session for me was when the entire gathering was invited to say the Lord's Prayer in their own language. Up rose a beautiful cacophany that made me wonder what Pentecost was like. Then today I chatted to a couple of interpreters over lunch who are dealing with those for whom aspects of the conference will be a considerable struggle because those instructions that are so incomprehensible to all of us at times will be even more so to those who do not speak English.

It struck me that language - foreign language, relational language, healing language - is going to be such an immense part of this conference. Understanding the baggage that comes with the language, the way we hear one another, the intent with which we speak... It seems appropriate that we think about this as the conference focuses on the Bible, the Word of God, the bible studies centering on St John's Gospel. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

I hope I am able to use my words well to proclaim the Word to the world.

Salisbury, Old Sarum, Stonehenge and Avebury

Today we set out for Salisbury and after a one and half hour drive and making up silly stories about the names of places that we were travelling through or past, we arrived there . Our favourite one for the trip was having driven through a series a little villages named "Wallop Something" "Something Wallop", we got to Wallop, where there was a small defense related factory. The name of the factory ended in Wallop and we were making jokes that they must pack a big wallop for their equipment. Once dropped off in the city, we went straight to the cathedral, and had lunch sitting out on the lawn in front of the cathedral. There were large crowds there and it was quite warm, about 25 and sticky. 

We made our way into the Cathedral and even though it had school group and tour groups being loud and all over the place, we were both overcome with the sense of space and light and history that filled the building. The light was the thing that really struck me at first above everything else. We spent a long time in the Cathedral and gradually the crowds disappeared and we were able to get a much better sense of the place. I could have spent the rest of the day there, but there were other things to do. 

Leaving Salisbury Cathedral, we headed up to Old Sarum to see the remains of the Castle and the Cathedral and to think about the people who had been there in one form or another for thousands of years. We then went on to Stonehenge, only a few miles away. It was getting a bit late in the day and there were still lots of people arriving. It was somewhere else we could have stayed for a long time, but we wanted to get one more thing in for the day, which was to get to Avebury. We got there in time to have a quick look around at a small part of the earth works and the stones that are there, before we had to get something to eat for dinner. So we had a first pub meal in England. Going to Avebury meant that we went through some beuatifil villages with lots of thatched roofed homes and barns. We also decided that the town of Marlborough looked like would be a nice place to live as well.

Today Jane began her work at the Lambeth Conference and headed off there this morning. I had a wander around some of the old part of Canterbury and then headed out this afternoon to visit the ruins of a Roman villa that have been uncovered. Unfortunately I got hopelessly lost trying to get of the various motorways. I shall try again tomorrow.

Dover Castle

Genna will be pleased to know that as we arrived at Dover Castle and chatted to one of the staff there, we had a conversation about watching what the Top Gear crew did when the set out to drive their cars to France. We looked at where they set out from. After that little interlude, we spent most of the day looking around Dover Castle. We started out by looking at one of the oldest buildings in England, which is a Roman lighthouse called a Pharos, then we wnt in to look at a Church from Saxon times, wandered around underground tunnels that date back to the Napoleonic Wars and were used during WW2. We finished off with wandering around Keep in the middle of the whole castle site. The keep dates back to the 12th century and was built during the reign of Henry II. There will be some pictures up in the next few days for you to look at. It was quite an expereience to be wandering around this castle that has been in constant use as a military base for about a thousand years and a place that has been in use one way or another for nearly two thousand years.

In which Jane and David contemplate how they survived the Long Haul

Eleven points out of ten to Qantas for an exemplary flight. Not only did they organise fabulous weather and very little turbulence, they looked after us fabulously well. The food was actually edible, even enjoyable, and plentiful, and while the seats were uncomfortable, the inflight entertainment was comprehensive enough to help me forget about it. That and the temazepam, and I was quite human by the time we disbarked.

Hong Kong was odd. We were in transit but nevertheless had to go out and come in again – via the intense scrutiny of no fewer than three passport checks and an additional x-ray check, during which people were forced to dump the water they’d been given on the airplane.

The escalators back up to the transit lounge after all this anti terrorist zeal were plastered, literally, at the bottom, on the handrail, and the entire length of the handrail, with signs warning of the dangers of not hanging with a white knuckled grip onto the handrail, and the social value of caring for the children and elderly, who if they unwisely flout the loudspeaker admonition repeated constantly, “Please hold on to the handrail” are apparently in instant and mortal peril.

We drove from Heathrow to Kent. I saw a Yoof with the trainers and basketball shirt. I saw a lady in a tweed skirt riding a bike. I knew I was in England. Greenery was growing on every surface where so much as a speck of dust had settled. Trees seemed to grow on every bit of surface that wasn’t full of building or a motorway. There were wild flowers bursting out of hedgerows and lining the roads. It is so beautiful.

Now, Sproggies: It is summer here! It is steamy and warm and delightful. It is nearly 9pm and the sun is still up – it’s broad daylight! Your darling mama is marvelling that there are no flies, and no mosquitoes. Daddy says there are insects in England but I say “pshaw” to that. Our room is at the top floor of a darling old B&B and our open windows with their gauzy curtains show us the deep green of an immense oak through which the golden sunlight is streaming. It’s heaven, sproggies!

But you’ll laugh when I tell you that we got hopelessly, hopelessly lost on the way here, driving up one way streets the wrong way and blocked streets and streets where cars are simply not supposed to go at all! We finally got here to find a note on the door saying, “Sorry, I’m out!” We rang her up and she said she was coming home from church, that the key was under the doormat and our room was 16 – not 61, mind, even if that’s what the key said, only we couldn’t find sixteen because it was on the third floor and we couldn’t find stairs to take us higher than 2nd. We made our way up the fire escape with Daddy’s rucksack and my 26kg suitcase.

We finally found the proper stairs, you’ll be glad to hear.

Things I didn’t come to the UK for:

• Turning on the radio and listening to John Farnham
• Being served Aussie plonk as a house wine in the fabled Bishop’s Finger. (We sat in the window of the pub and watched the Frog plonk shop over the road and tried to decipher the signs in the window.)

Going to Old Blighty

We head off on Saturday.

I am resolved to enjoy the remaining few days at home rather than engaging in headless chicken-like behaviour every time I contemplate what else needs to be done. (Lists? Lists? Did somebody say lists?)

The Sprogs are anxious. I can't say I blame them.

Hello Sproggies! Don't forget to leave your darling Mama a message...