Armed Robbery

I was up at Maccas after church tonight with the young adults. There were 12 of us. I was eating a salad because I was still full of sake and Japan food from Mother's Day (Happy Mother's Day Mum!). It was Seared Chicken Caesar in case you're wondering.

About two thirds of the way through my salad, there was some shouting at the back door of Maccas. I thought "Oh a fight, I hate fights, they make me nervous." Then I saw the manager and thought "Oh good the manager is going to break it up." I moved my head so I could see better and saw that there wasn't a fight instead two guys with balaclavas had come in the back door. One was holding a large kitchen knife and the other a small axe, a hatchet if you will, with a shiny red bit on it. It looked new. They were both wearing black and one of them was holding a small bag.

I thought "Oh good, it's not a fight. Must be a practical joke. Halloween isn't for a while. It's not a very funny joke. Whoever they're friends with on the Maccas staff is gonna be pissed."

They kept shouting. It occurred to me when they shoved the manager behind the counter and the people nearest the back door got up and ran out that it wasn't actually a joke but this was a real armed robbery.

We were seated at the other end of maccas, far from the counter and far from the doors. I had a view of all the doors and the counter. I was pretty pleased to be in such a good spot. The guy with the hatchet ran behind the counter to deal with the staff, who kinda stood there looking stunned, while the guy with the knife hung around to deal with the customers. He waved the knife and swore at all of us telling us to stay where we were. It wasn't that helpful. Every time he turned his back another group of customers would run out the nearest door.

The group of Christians behind us, closer to the action looked scared and one started praying loudly to Jesus. It's to be expected if you rob a maccas on a Sunday night that someone is gonna start praying. I didn't pray. I'm guess I'm not even a Sunday Christian.

As one group of people ran out the door the guy with the knife chased them out shouting about how they should stay where they were. At that point the Christians hopped up and ran out too. They had a small girl with them. It was probably the best thing to do.

The poor robber, on the other hand, couldn't keep control of his charges. I knew how he'd be feeling, it's the same feeling I used to get every week teaching scripture. You think you're big and scary and then everyone just ignores your threats and runs away. He was hemorrhaging potential hostages like an amateur. Should have watched Heat. Had he promised us all chocolate to stay and watch his robbery I'm sure we would have been more obliging, they don't do that in Heat, but it's probably a good tactic.

Anyway, my group, we stayed. Probably within 30 seconds of the guys coming in we were the only customers left in Maccas. It felt a little special having the restaurant to ourselves. Kinda romantic perhaps, like the empty ice rink in Rocky. If it wasn't for the guys with weapons, I might have proposed to someone.

As we sat there we looked around at each other and the general consensus seemed to be that we should stay where were. We were too far from any doors to get out quickly. It never really occurred to me to leave. I saw other people leaving and I thought "That's brave. They might get stabbed." I figured sitting still and doing what you're told was probably the safest option. Plus if we left I wasn't going to get to see what happened and how often in your life do you get to witness an armed robbery?

I also felt kinda like leaving was the wrong thing to do. Like if we ran away we were abandoning the Maccas staff to their fate alone. Of course I'm sure they didn't feel like they needed us there for support, but we were all in this together. I think perhaps the same reason that I often stay behind at events and help pack up is the same reason that I felt like I should stay behind in Maccas. Bailing early isn't right.

That said, I've never considered the ethics of being a bystander (or bysitter in our case) in an armed robbery. And probably escaping is just as valid option as staying.

Anyway, once it was clear to knife dude that he'd lost control of everyone except us, he headed over to the counter to help hatchet dude. They shouted a lot about giving them money and nothing else seemed to be happening.

I found the whole thing fascinating. I didn't really freak out or even get nervous. I was hoping no one got stabbed but only because I felt like that would complicate things more than I wanted them too. I also spent time wondering what was going on behind the counter, but a lot of my thoughts were just something like "Oh yes, so this is what an armed robbery feels like." I worried a little for my fellow church friends. Some of them were freaking out a small bit. I hoped no one did anything stupid. I also spent a while trying to figure out if the robbers would get angry if I kept eating my salad. I'm not sure what I decided. I think I might have snuck in a few bits while their backs were turned.

After a bit more kerfuffle behind the counter the two guys ran out the back door they had come through. The whole thing would have taken less than two minutes. There was a momentary lull in action as everyone tried figure out if it was over. Then a bunch of us jumped up and went to the counter to see what happened, people pulled out phones to write a Facebook status update and a bunch of the patrons who escaped came back in the door, presumably to pick up the food they'd left behind, no one wants to lose those last two nuggets. I pulled out my phone and thought about doing a Facebook status update but couldn't think of anything witty to write so I put it back in my pocket and went back to eating my salad.

I think there was a little bit of discussion about calling the cops, I'm not sure if anyone did. We were all too busy on Facebook.

Suddenly there was a whole bunch of debriefing going on. We found out that no one was hurt and the guys had only gotten $200 because the safe was on a time lock.

The next 15 minutes was spent debriefing, talking about what we saw, how we felt, making jokes. The adrenaline meant that everyone laughed louder. It was prime time to tell jokes cause it made you feel like you're really funny. It was just the chemicals in the brain laughing, but who cares, you gotta take what you can get.

Eventually the cops turned up, none of them had their sirens on which was disappointing. They took our details, told us to wait for the detectives, and then when they found out all we saw were two guys in masks, told us we could go.

I stayed a little bit longer, finished my salad, thanked everyone for sharing the bonding experience with me, then went home.

The salad was pretty good, in case you're wondering.

Never Say Never

While Navy Seals were busy killing Osama Bin Laden, I went to the cinema to watch Justin Bieber. I was completing my challenge. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who has taken me up on my challenge, but that's ok, I guess I'm just the only brave person who reads my blog. That's fine, you pansies, that's why I have a hairy chest and you don't.

I went to Event Maquarie. The first step was to go buy a ticket. I decided to go to the earliest session of the day. I figured 10:30am on a Monday was the time I was least likely to be stuck in a cinema full of Beiberised 12 year-old girls.

I lined up and spent the entire time in the line trying to figure out whether to ask for a ticket to just plain Never Say Never or to say something ironic and witty. I couldn't think of anything ironic and witty but I couldn't bring my self to call the movie by it's proper title just like I refuse to ask for a Brekky to GoGo at Boost juice. I ended up asking for "One to the Bieber movie."

I was expecting the woman to mock me or something but, like a true professional, she just gave me my ticket and asked where I'd like to sit. I said the middle, not that I was planning on sitting there. I had designated seating.

I took my ticket but no 3D glasses as I had my 3D glasses already in my pocket. Prepared like a scout, you wimps!

The next obstacle was getting past the ticket collector without being laughed at or jeered for being a grown man going to see Bieber in concert on a screen. The ticket collector, she was also very professional, didn't mock me once. I suspect it was all her experience collecting tickets for people going to see things like The Hottie of the Nottie and Sex and the City 2 which stopped her from grabbing her walkie talking and informing all her fellow staff members that there was creepy bearded man off to watch a tweenie girl's movie in 3D.

As I stood there embarrassed by my situation I realised that there is no ironic way to have your ticket ripped.

My last challenge was to make it into the cinema undetected. Happily I'd arrived late so the lights were already down and I could sneak in. As it turned out there was only one other person in the cinema. They were sitting right up the back. I pretended not to notice them and they pretended not to notice me. We had an unspoken agreement. We were like next-door neighbours passing in a porn shop.


Despite the rigmarole, I actually quite enjoyed the movie. I wasn't sure what I'd think of the movie. I never thought it'd be terrible. My embarrassment at seeing the movie had nothing really to do with the quality of the movie or Justin Bieber as a performer. It was only really that I was doing something that I really shouldn't be doing. I was doing something made for girls who are somewhere in-between ponies and vodka cruisers not for men who are somewhere in-between balding and a mortgage.

Anyway, it was an interesting movie. It gave me a good insight into Justin Bieber and what he's all about. From a youth ministry perspective it helped me understand teenage girl obsession a bit too. Also from a youth ministry perspective I left feeling pretty worried about what this life must be doing to the poor kid. To be literally worshipped by millions of girls must screw with the young man's head. From what I could see in the film, he has a solid bunch of people around him who keep in generally grounded. There seem to be some strong Christians there including his mum, so I'm hoping they work on him to keep him humble.

Bieber's music is pretty bland, but he is clearly pretty talented. The film itself is part concert film, part documentary about his rise to fame. The documentary bit was pretty interesting, the concert got a tad boring. I was ready for the film to end after about an hour.

Perhaps most interesting, and most embarrassing, is that the film did make me a tad emotional. Actually not a tad. I cried. Real tears. I know, it's terrible, and that's why I'm writing this so late in the post and hoping everyone has stopped reading by now.

There's a scene where Justin sings One Less Lonely Girl. During the concert the production team pick one girl out of the audience and invite her on to the stage with Bieber. She sits on a stool on the stage and he sings to her and gives her a bunch of flowers and dances around her. The scene in the film becomes a montage of girls getting given the chance to get sung to by their idol Justin Bieber, there is a lot of screaming and tears. And somehow, somehow in all that emotion, music, and in the joy of seeing all these young ones have their dreams come true, I got a lump in my throat and a few droplets of salt water trickled down from behind my 3D glasses into my lap. It was embarrassing and lovely all that same time. So emotionally confusing for a man like me.

I learnt then that there's no ironic way to cry during a Justin Bieber movie.

When the film was done, I left. I tried to sneak out without running into a cinema worker who might notice my puffy eyes. I think I was successful which is lucky, because despite all their professionalism and training I'm not sure they could have let that breach of manly conduct pass without out some public humiliation.

So did I learn from the experience? Yes I did. I learnt a lot. I learnt about Bieber. I learnt about the people who love Bieber. I learnt about facing your fears. And I learnt that if Beiber ever picks me out of the crowd for One Less Lonely Girl there is no way I'm going to be able to hold it together. I'm gonna be a blubbering mess.

Jet Boating

Last Sunday it was my sister Hannah's 16th birthday. It was a big day!

Dad and Hannah were going to be going out on a sailing boat thing. Sailing for the Disabled or something. However the weather meant they couldn't go, the sailing trip had to be postponed.

Still Dad decided that Hannah couldn't turn sixteen without a trip on the water, it is after all an important Australian rite of passage, that sixteenth birthday boating trip. So Dad booked him and her onto one of those jet boats that fly around Sydney Harbour so you can see all the sights at ultra high speeds while vomiting over the side or into the face of the person behind you.

However because Dad doesn't really like vomiting, eating other people's vomit or sight seeing, he thought I might be more interested. I was, I'm not a fan of vomit, but jet boats sound fun. So I was going to be Hannah's chaperone.

In the afternoon Mum, Dad and Hannah had a birthday lunch of fish and chips then picked me up after my Sunday afternoon shop for socks and undies (three pairs of undies, five pairs of socks! Hooray!) and we headed down to Sydney Harbour.

When we arrived at Circular Quay, Hannah didn't seem that excited about going on a boat. She seemed to be more interested in dancing the conga and listening to didgeridoo. I think perhaps she saw the boat and was disappointed it wasn't a real jet boat. She was expecting something with afterburners. It just wasn't hardcore enough for her.

Still we tried to convince her. No luck.

"Hannah we're going to go on a boat! Let's go have fun on the boat!"

"No no boat! Bye bye boat!"

No matter how hard we tried, Hannah wouldn't come. We kept trying right up until it was time to step on to the boat. But it wasn't going to happen.

At the last minute Dad subbed in for Hannah and went on the boat with me. Mum and Hannah stayed on the land and waved us good bye while Dad and I went jet boating for Hannah's birthday. It was good fun. No one vomitted so I think Hannah was right in not going, it certainly wouldn't have been crazy enough for her. But for pansys like Dad and I, it was pretty good fun. Plus I think Dad got to go at disability rates. That's my Dad, always scamming the system.

After the boat we had and ice cream which Hannah liked.

Maybe next birthday we'll find a jet boat with afterburners for Hannah. Or I'm hoping perhaps Dad and I get to go sky diving for Hannah's birthday or something.

How Not to Impress a Girl

I was at Jem and Gem's party on Saturday night and I was talking to this person who happened to be a girl. Win. She asked me what book I was currently reading. I said "I'm reading one about the sexualisation of young girls." (It's called Getting Real: Challenging the Sexualisation of Girls in case you're wondering.)

She replied "Oh by Melinda Tankard Reist?"

I said "Yeah I'm really enjoying it."

And then we talked about how good the book is. And I'm feeling like this girl was probably way impressed because I'm reading a book that's full of essays all about not turning women into sex objects and not letting young girls get caught up in our society's raunch culture. I'm pretty sure I'm scoring points for both intellect and feminism.

Then a little while later, high on the success of this last exchange, I start talking to her friend who happens to also be a girl, plus Irish. Double Win.

We get onto the subject of awkward train conversations. I begin telling the Irish girl a story about a man who started talking to me on the train that day about the book I was reading.

"What book were you reading?" She asks.

I reply, happily, "It's called, Getting Real: The Sexualisation of Young Girls"

She looks at me funny then says "...and I'm changing carriages right about now."

Oh dear, something's gone horribly wrong.

It's at that point that I realise that when the person you're talking to doesn't know the book you're talking about, and when you get the title wrong and say the book is called "The Sexualisation of Young Girls" as opposed to "Challenging the Sexualisation of Girls", it's not a win for intellect and sensitive feminism, it's a win for creepy guy at the party. Bugger.

No matter how hard I tried after that, I think she always just thought I was freak.

Next time, best just to say you're reading Dan Brown.

Hardship

Today I had a shoelace coming out of my shoe and dragging on the ground. I noticed it just as I was walking into the toilets at Hoyts to do a wee. I had been planning to use the urinal but had to change my plans because, had I gone to the wee wall, there's a high chance my shoelace would have fallen through the grate and into the urine flowing rapidly below. I re-adjusted my heading and went to a proper toilet instead.

It's because of quick thinking and ingenious problem solving like this that wars are won, nuclear meltdowns are averted and men don't go around smelling like urinals as often.

It's also a clear indication of why men have harder lives than women. Women don't have to contend with such dangers or make decisions of such magnitude on a daily basis.


Speaking of women having hard lives, my sister's due to have a baby today. How exciting. If the nurses know about anatomy then she's having a small man. May he grow up to have clean shoelaces and a peaceful life.

Forgettable Moments

Remembered history says that David ran up to me on my first day of primary school and said "Will you be my friend?" and we've been friends ever since.

On Saturday I went to Melbourne see him get married to Andreana. It was, to be sure, a lovely wedding. If I'm honest I'll probably forget the vows, though I liked them more than most. I'll probably forget that I had to pretend to be a water pot, though I've never done that before, least of all in the middle of a wedding ceremony. I'll probably forget that there were people handing out food and drink before the ceremony or that the whole thing happened on soggy ground while the rain made empty threats to come. I'll forget the conversations I had before and after, I'm already forgetting them. I'll forget the jokes Howie and I made as MCs at the reception, and I'll forget Russell the manager of the bowling club who kept asking us questions about the wedding we didn't know, ("We're just the MCs!"). I'll forget that there were three different types of cake and that I forgot to bring a belt and a jacket. I'll forget that Anmol ate two cheeseburgers on our way home.

I'll forget most things about Saturday.

But then again, I've forgotten most of the things David and I have done together as friends. The few significant moments are eclipsed by the thousands of insignificant ones. But whatever the memories are, when David asked me to be his friend he changed our lives. Neither of us would be where we or who we are today, if it wasn't for that moment 23 years ago when David began something significant.

So while I will mostly forget the wedding, I probably won't forget that under a giant tree one February afternoon in 2011 in Melbourne, one of my oldest friends married one of his newest friends. They will profoundly change each other's lives. My prayer is that they help each other be the best David and Andreana they can be and they love each other in all the forgettable moments as well as the memorable ones.

For myself, I'm thankful that David is still beginning significant things and creating relationships that change lives.

Flirting

I was driving home today, and while I was stopped at some lights in Lindfield this little white car pulled up beside me. There seemed to be a lot of movement in the car, so I looked at it. Inside were two girls. The girls were looking at me and the girl in the passenger seat seemed to be leaning over the driver to wind down her window. I thought it was odd but didn't want to stare so I looked back at the car in front. The little car beeped so I looked back and both girls were still looking at me, the window was down now. They were giggling, one waved, and the other did the Thumb-Pinky wave at me. I thought "Oh goodness, I think they might be flirting." So I smiled an indulgent and probably rudely dismissive smile, and then drove off (the lights had changed) and tried not to look at them again, just in case they really were flirting. I don't know how to do inter-car flirting so I thought my best response was just to drive away as quickly as possible. Shame really, because had I known what to do, I could be partying with the ladies right now.

Sigh.

Whaddahh the odds?

I left the Howie's tonight after doing some rehersing for our LIVE VIDEO tomorrow night and I called Ant to see what we were planning for tomorrow day. As I was talking on the phone, I could hear someone in the street talking. I looked around and saw someone else talking on the phone as they walked along. And they seemed to be only talking when Ant was talking. And suprise, suprise, it was Ant. I called him just as he walked down the street that I was in. Amazing.

So we hung up and talking in real life.

Locked Out

Tonight left my unit and I went downstairs to do my washing in the laundry. I left the unit door open. My housemate went out and thought I was in unit, so he closed the door. He hopped in his car and drove away. I kept sorting my washing. When I was done I went back up to the unit only to find the door was locked and I had no keys. Bugger.

I really needed to wee. I rang my housemate to find out how long he'd be out - about half-an-hour. I went to the park and did a wee, then I went to visit my friends the Witteveens. It was good. And my clothes got cleaned. So it was a productive night.

Stop - Come

I remember hearing a lot during the early part of the Iraq war/occupation about people getting shot at checkpoints. The soldiers manning the checkpoint would signal for cars to stop and they'd keep coming, so the soldiers thinking they were a threat would shoot them. Then they'd find that in the car it was a just a family going to visit relatives or something equally benign.

I remember thinking "Why wouldn't those people stop?" I couldn't imagine why they would just keep driving and get shot up.

I read in Time magazine that when the soldiers would signal a car to stop they would hold out "an open palm, waving downward". It's a symbol we all know means "stop". Unfortunately for Iraqis it means "come". So they would come thinking they were doing the right thing, the soldiers would think they were a threat, and shoot them.

These days the soldiers stop cars by holding out a clenched fist.

I've kept thinking about that since I first read it. Something so simple, some small bit of cultural knowledge, could have saved so many innocent lives.

Communication is a dangerous and tricky business.

Sailing

I'm speaking on a sailing camp again in about two weeks. It's the same camp I did this time last year.

Today they had a sailing training day and I thought I'd go because I don't know anything about sailing and I feel dumb sitting in boat not being able to help. Today my plan was to feel less dumb. I may have succeeded.

It was a lovely day for sailing. At least the sun was out and hot. But the wind was up which was fun but made beginners sailing not so good.

I started the day in a small boat with a guy who taught me a few things about sailing. Like a rope attached to a sail is a sheet. That seems a little odd, you'd think the sail would be the sheet, but it seems not. He told me lots of stuff about sailing into the wind and luffing jibs and halyards, but I didn't really understand it all. I was given the job of steering and he'd tell me when it was time to tack or jibe and I'd do what I was meant to do and inevitably stuff it up because you have to steer the boat, watch where you're going, swap sides and try not to get hit in the head by the boom. It's too many things to do at once. I find parking my car a complex manoeuvre so doing all these sailing things is too hard for me.

After lunch I was put on a catamaran with a different guy. The wind had picked up a bit more by this stage and my only job was pulling on a rope. We went pretty fast and it was good fun. At one point he let me steer and I capsized the boat. Oops.

We spent a bit of time trying to not drown and right the boat, and after that it was time to come in.

It was a fun day, but I'm pretty sure I won't be leading sailing expeditions any time too soon.

(Almost) Typing Fail

I was writing an email to the Dad of a girl from youth today. His daughter had been part of the group we took to Tumbarumba on the weekend. I wanted to write "It was great to have her along". Unfortunately I wrote "It was great to have her alone". I only picked it up in the second read through. I don't always proof read well (as you would know dear readers) so I'm very pleased I did this time because that typo could have got me a very angry father.

Sirens and Bright Light

I was driving home from Bible Study on Monday night with my new British friend, Ant, and as we drove past a telegraph pole in Hornsby, I looked up and saw a bright light. I said to Ant "Look there's someone welding, on top of the pole, all by themselves." I thought it was odd that there would be a person on top of a telegraph pole at 10:30pm doing some welding. But then when I looked further, I saw there was no person up there, just the bright light. I realised that this was electricity, burning brightly where it shouldn't be burning brightly, coming out of the top of a telegraph pole.

This was an exciting discovery for me, this meant it was an emergency. So I said dramatically "We're going to have to call emergency services!" I put on my hazards and did a u-turn to get a better look, used my iPhone GPS to figure out exactly where it was, then dialed triple-0. I reported that there was a telegraph pole on fire, and I think the lady on the other end was happy to have taken such an pivotal call in the safety of the nation and our fight against terrorism and stuff.

Once that was done we parked and wandered a little closer to watch this sparking electrical brilliance. At times is grew very bright, bright like a thousand suns (minus 999.9999 of them) and made a noise some what resembling battle involving multiple lightsabers. We didn't stand too close, as we thought it might explode. That was certainly my hope.

The Fireys and the Cops arrived about 3 minutes after I called. They parked right opposite the sparking thing, so it seemed they weren't too worried about explosions.

I was then hoping to see some action as the fireys set about putting it out but everyone just stood around staring at it. They informed us that you can't really put the fire out, you just have to turn off the electricity.

So it was less exciting than I'd hoped. But still more exciting than a normal drive home.

As it turned out, one of the fire fighters was my friend Wayne who I used to think was awesome when I was a kid, and who I got lost in a canyon with when we all went canyoning with Keith. It was a nice moment.

When we realised nothing more was going to happen, we left. Our work was done, Hornsby was safe in the hands of the NSW Fire Brigade.

Guess Who?

Yesterday I had a work event on and there was a guy there who I went on camp with last year. I was the speaker and he was on of the leaders, he came up to me to say "Hello" but I couldn't for the life of me remember his name. It was the old "Hey Tom, how you going?" "Heeeyyyy, not too bad, how are you?"

I thought he must have been one of the directors of the camp because there was a camp directors' weekend on there at the time. As we talked I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what his name was and what else I knew about him. Then I remembered that both the directors were studying medicine, or were doctors or something. I thought, "Great, I'll ask how that's going and it'll be clear from the question that I remember who he is" and that could make up for the obvious fact that I completely forgot his name.

So I said "How's your studies?"

And he replied "I finished last year, I'm working now."

Me: "Oh so are you saving people's lives?"

Him: "I'm not sure you save many lives in the media."

Damn! Now it's freakin' obvious you have no idea who he is, dig up! Dig up!

Me: "Well... you know... Jack Bauer, he saves people's lives, and he's in the media, sort of, well, he's a fictional character, portrayed in the media, who's saving people's lives... actually he kinda kills more people...yeah..."

Idiot!

Puppet Fail

Yesterday I did a visit to a school as I was doing a talk in their infants chapel about kindness and goodness. I had never done an infants chapel before, so I thought I might do a bit of puppetry. So I went and found my old friend Ron. Ron is a friendly, blue puppet who's been in our family for a very long time. I decided to do it ventriloquist style, rather than say, to have him whisper in my ear. The upside is that Ron can say funnier things. The downside is that it's much easier to stuff up. I love puppets, but I was pretty scared of doing this. I'd never done ventriloquism in front of an audience before.

I had decided to give Ron an Irish accent so as to differentiate his voice from mine. On the way down in the car, it worked perfectly. Ron was sounding like a Dublin native. It was brilliant. Unfortunately, I wasn't performing on the way down in the car. When it came time for me to stand up in front of the kids, I'd completely forgotten how to do an Irish accent. I stood up there and all that would come out was this demented Ernie-voice. And while I could have gotten away with that, the first thing I did when Ron came out of the bag is have Ron tell everyone that he was from Ireland. Dumb. And while the kids probably had no idea my accent wasn't anything like anyone from anywhere, the parents and teachers in the room could definitely tell that I was doing what was probably the worst Irish accent they had ever heard. It was a little embarrassing.

Oh, well you know, as Jesus said: "Those who suck at puppetry are sometimes competent in other areas." Or perhaps that was fake-Jesus. Thanks fake-Jesus, you minister to my wounded heart.

I'm living in Inception

Have you ever had a dream where you turn up to do something, like give a speech, but your totally unprepared? I have.

Today that happened to me in real life. I was at a school, I did a talk in their chapel, went to the staff room, and then one of the chaplains stood up and said "Right, it's almost time to go to chapel."

I spent a little while trying to work out what chapel this was they were talking about. I had no memory of going to another chapel today. I had a feeling it was a primary school chapel seeing as I had just done the high school. So I asked and the Chaplain said "Yes, this is primary school, and you're speaking. You didn't know?"

I had no idea it was about to happen. I thought the chapel was on Thursday and so I'd done no preparation for it at all. I don't know who had stuffed up, it could have been the chaplain's lack of communication, but I think it's more likely I just clean forgot. I do so much teaching when I visit this school, it's hard to remember everything.

Anyway I literally had 10 minutes to figure out what I was going to do, while having to hold a conversation with the chaplain about the schools upcoming holiday club. Happily, unlike the dreams where the moment where your realise you have to do a talk and you have nothing prepared streaches on for hours, till you wake up or find yourself on a train with your year 5 teacher, in real life it's not nearly so terrible. I adjusted my talk from the morning as the chapel was on the same topic and rejoiced that I just reduced my preparation load significantly. I don't think it was my best talk ever, but it did the job, and I'm happy to see that those dreams aren't so bad in real life.

Minorgraine

I was sitting at work today, diligently looking at photos on istock of backpacks (it was pretty inspiring) when I realised I couldn't see things that I was looking at. I could see everything around what I was looking at, but in the centre of my vision I had a white spot like I'd been looking at a light, except I hadn't.

My immediate thought was "I'm going blind." Then I thought "If that's true I can probably take a day off work tomorrow." My third thought was "If I go blind, I'll be able to do an inspirational preaching tour." My fourth thought was "I hope, if I go blind, I don't start dressing like a blind person, unless it's Stevie Wonder."

Generally, if ever I find a problem with my health and the diagnosis is not immediately apparent to me, I jump first to worst case scenario and then to the inspirational preaching tour. "Maybe I've got cancer... Inspirational preaching tour", "Maybe I've got a rare degenerative disease... Inspirational preaching tour.", "Maybe I'm going bald... Inspirational preaching tour." Actually I'm planning the tour for my balding testimony now. I just need the hairline to recede a little more.

Anyway, the blind spot moved from being in the middle of my vision, to the left-side of my vision so I lost all my peripheral vision on the left. I realised than that I wasn't going blind I was just getting a migraine. I was a little disappointed that the preaching tour was off the cards, but I did still harbour a small hope that I could still take the day off work tomorrow and watch DVDs or something. I did at the very least start planning how I was going to get home with no peripheral vision. I thought driving would be a touch unsafe.

But, as it happens, the vision cleared up and the migraine never appeared. I got a tiny little headache and I felt sleepy during the news tonight, that's it. I've only ever gotten one migraine in my life, and I'm pretty sure I can't call what I had today a migraine. It was a poor excuse for a migraine. It was a failgraine. If I could capture it on a digital camera, I'd send it in to Fail Blog for everyone to laugh at.

But I'm not complaining. Even though I won't get to stay home and watch DVDs tomorrow, I am happy I'm not lying in a dark room with a throbbing head, feeling like I'm birthing a garden gnome out of my skull. And for all those of you who do get migraines, I wish this migraine on you from now on. You'll probably enjoy it compared to your usual torment. This one just kinda tickles.

Respect.

Shovel

Yesterday, on my way to my car to go to church to preach I had an encounter with a man who I have very little relationship with, wielding a shovel, who was very angry. He swore at me, and got in my face. I was pretty sure he was going to hit me, but happily he didn't. While I'm rather unsure as to how I upset him, I do know he really was upset with me. He seemed mostly upset about all the noise I was making disturbing him. Seeing as I had just spent the previous 25 minutes practising my sermon, in doors, in a whisper, I was pretty sure my noise wasn't the direct cause of his anger.

I learnt a few things in the encounter:

• Fight or flight needs a third option like "stand there and look confused as to why you're being attacked", because I took the third option.
• It would be totally disappointing to be murdered because I picked the wrong moment to walk to my car, rather than say, get murdered for my faith, or because I was standing up to a corrupt mafia gang.
• People really do use shovels when angry. This was something I had been pondering just the night before, as I was thinking about putting a joke in my sermon about someone hitting me over the head with a shovel. I thought perhaps it was a little obscure and I should find a more common household implement to be hit over the head with. But I left it in because saucepan sounded a little too Looney Toons. And then, to my small delight, I was vindicated in my decision to leave the shovel in, because as I headed off to preach the sermon with the shovel joke in it, a man came at me with a shovel. I also felt happier to make the joke. in light of my encounter I felt I had more permission to joke about such violence. Like fat people have permission to make jokes about being fat. Although really, for it to be a direct correlation in analogy it'd be potentially fat people making fat jokes, which I think probably isn't PC.

To be totally fair to the guy, while he did approach me very angry, with shovel in hand, he never raised it up to hit me. It was always by his side. In fact, it took me a while to figure out that the shovel was actually a potential weapon. I was wondering for a lot of the encounter why in the middle of doing some gardening he suddenly became enraged at me.
In the end, after a while of me trying to decipher his rage, his wife pulled him off, a couple of times, and I got in the car and left while he stared at me.

A quiet Sunday afternoon.

Busted

When I arrived at work today the head of the finance division came into my cubicle and asked if I had time for a chat.

He pulled up a chair, and said "Now this hasn't really gotten out yet but on Friday we got a letter about you..."

When he first starts talking I think "Oh no someone's got cancer" then he keeps talking and I think "Oh crap, I'm totally busted for something". And my heart starts beating and I get nervous till he finishes his sentence:

"...from Centrelink. They want to know your employment details."

He's very serious, and I'm wondering why he's so serious. I wonder if I'm going to jail or something. Then I remember that Centrelink sent me a letter a while ago asking me for my employment details. I had already given them my new employment details but not the ABN number of my new work. I had ignored the letter on the advice of the Centrelink worker who told me that because of the way I'm paid in my full time employment I would be receiving $12 a fortnight from Centrelink forever, unless I stopped handing in their forms. So I stopped handing in my forms. My multiple attempts at breaking up with them face-to-face handn't worked. I decided to screen their calls and not return their mail. It's healthier this way.

This ignoring worked enough to get a letter in the mail from Centrelink telling me my Newstart is cancelled (win!) but not enough for them to not think I'm up to dodgy business and send letters to my employer (fail).

"Apparently someone over there thinks you're ripping them off" he continued.

He was sufficiently worried by the letter to meet with me as if I'm in trouble with the law. I find it amusing that Centrelink think I'm ripping them off because I'm ignoring them so they'll stop giving me money. Maybe they'll fine me for trying to stop getting money from them. It wouldn't surprise me.

Anyway, I'll call them tomorrow to tell them what I've been trying to tell them all along, I'm in a new relationship, could they please move on, I have.

What's in a Name?

I got to church late tonight and I arrived during communion which was being held at the back of the church for some reason. While I was standing there, I noticed a girl who I'd met at a party the other week, we'd had a conversation about why she wasn't going to church stuff any more, and then there she was at church. So thinking it'd be good to be welcoming and affirming, as we were walking back to our seats, I said "It's Mabel* right?" I was so pleased with myself for rememebering her name. But she responded "Ahh no."

"Oh" I said "So we haven't met."

"No. I'm Gwendolynne*" she said.

"Oh sorry, I'm Tom. Well it's nice to meet you Gwendolynne." And then I sat down, feeling like an idiot.



*Names have been changed.