Neighbours and parasols

8 12 2015

I’ve been getting Advent Challenges in my inbox each morning from The Bible Society. Each day they send you three challenges to encourage you to do something for others during this season. The idea is that generally you’ll find one of them that you can manage to do.

On Wednesday 2nd December, the three options given were:

  • Send cards to the neighbours you don’t know – But I don’t know their names to write in them!
  • Join a local group or club in the new year – But I don’t have the time!
  • Invite a neighbour over for a cuppa – I hate tea.

So I thought to myself, you know what, I might give this one a miss, there’s many more days left this month, I can do two challenges another day and catch up.

On the Saturday, late morning, I came downstairs and opened the lounge curtains, and saw that we had a new navy blue parasol lying on the ground – t was extremely windy on Friday night! So what did I have to do? That’s right, go and knock on my neighbour’s doors to find out whose it was!

Doesn’t God have a good sense of humour?! 🙂

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The Countdown final

17 07 2015

I think it’s time to start a new category on this blog. Sometimes I think things are normal, and it turns out it was just something typical of the Clewer household!

For example:

When I was small, my Mum loved the TV Show Countdown. We would watch it every day, and it would be recorded onto VHS in case we were out, or the phone rang, or something like that! Apparently I even learnt some of my letters and numbers from the programme!

countdown1

Since 1996 the show has been on nearly every day, with no break between series, but before that, when we were dedicated viewers, it had breaks between series like most normal TV shows. This meant that the end of series was a bit more of a climax, you started a series with heats, went through quarters, semis and built up the the Grand Final, and this was something of an event in the Clewer household.

redtableandchairs

My brother and I had a little plastic table and chairs we would sit and, and then, because it was the final, we’d get out the big bits of old paper and we would try our hand at the words and numbers games! I don’t know if I ever got beyond a three letter word in those days, and even now I think I’d struggle to get beyond a five, and I don’t know that I ever managed the numbers game (though I love it now – in fact, I’ve even made my own excel spreadsheet to generate games of it!) but we really enjoyed it, it became an event, a tradition!

paperwithholes

Do you mean to tell me you never did that? Was it really just us?! You’re missing out!





What I know about Hamlet

11 05 2014

The Lion King came up in discussion last week, I was telling someone how it’s based on Hamlet. But to me that doesn’t mean a whole lot, I’ve never seen or read it.

The only very brief summary I ever heard was from Just William, by Richmal Crompton. I think it’s brilliant!

“This man was called Hamlet, and his uncle had killed his father because he wanted to marry his mother.”
“What did he want to marry his mother for?” said William, “I’ve never heard of anyone wanting to marry their mother.”

Still makes me chuckle even now 🙂

lion king hamlet





A history of hairbrushes

8 02 2014

It’s normal to have an emotional attachment to your hairbrush, right? (OK, I’m mainly talking to the women here.)

I can tell you all about my hairbrush I had through my childhood, it lasted me years. It was purple, and had white bristles that always made my hair static. It got through all the difficult bits and left my hair lovely. I was so sad the day (probably late teens?) I dropped it, it hit something, and the handle snapped off from the bristle section (impressive as it was one solid piece of plastic!)

After this I went through a period of switching around a bit, it took me quite a while to find a replacement. I tried a wooden brush where the head was sort of rounded, but we never really hit it off. I went through a couple of others before landing on my latest one.

The hairbrush I’ve had for the last few years again had a solid handle, was pink, and not bristly with pink bobbles on the spokes. Over the years, the bobbles have slowly gone, but yesterday was it’s dying day.

As you may or may not have already spotted, I sprayed my hair bright red yesterday. As it was essentially a red hairspray, when I got home I brushed it all through, and really that was it. The brush has lost nearly all it’s bobbles, and even though I’ve washed it in steaming hot water for ages, it’s still so so red I can’t put it back through my hair.

Today it’s time to start the search for my next hairbrush as I’ve not been able to brush my hair since I washed it last night. I don’t know if I’ll find it right away, or if I’ll have to try hunting around again, but goodness me – I never really realised how much I bond with a hairbrush!

And on that note…





Wisdom from Angie on Worship

13 07 2013

I was chatting with a wonderful friend of mine this week when I realised what wise things I’ve been told over the years. Time to share them wider! There’ll be at least one more of these anecdotes coming soon…

I grew up in a lovely Baptist church which while not a traditional or formal church, is not overly charismatic. On a Sunday you’d see a handful of hands up in the air, always the same few. It wasn’t un-normal, but not something I ever did.

When I was 17 I went to Spring Harvest, and in the youth venue, arms were up everywhere, I wasn’t quite used to it! I found myself wanting to too, but I was worried. As a 17 year old I was still really quite concerned about what the people around me, my friends, people I’d known my whole life, thought of me.

I freaked out a bit.

The wonderful thing about going to Spring Harvest with a big church group though, is there’s all sorts of people you can sit down and talk with, and fortunately, Angie, my Sunday School teacher from when I was 10, who was also my Saturday job boss at Oasis Christian Centre was hanging around the Skyline watching a stall during the session, and I went to find her.

She was fantastic. Here’s what she shared with me: Worship isn’t about other people, it’s about you and God. Who care’s what’s going on around you. When she sings, she shuts her eyes, because then she doesn’t see what others are doing, doesn’t worry about what others are seeing her doing, and it’s just about her and God, whether her arms are up, down, other, or whatever she does!

And so that’s what I do so often now. I’m so easily distracted, not just by other people’s worship styles (we all worship differently, that’s a great thing!), but by toddlers running around, all sorts! If I shut my eyes, then it’s just me worshipping my Creator, Saviour and Sustainer, it’s personal 🙂





Losing my first tooth

10 03 2013

I’ve told this story a couple of times lately for various reasons so thought I may as well share it on here. You know there’s those stories you have that you bring up when relevant, just little anecdotes from your life because they were the handful of times you had something happen that was interesting enough that others might care? Well why not bung them on here I thought 🙂

And this one suits Mothering Sunday well!

When I was younger, probably about 6, I remember being allowed a square of dad’s whole nut chocolate. I remember saying to Mum that there was a nut too hard for me to bite through. Now for this to be taken in context, I was a very fussy eater as a child, some would say I still am, but I’m a million times better now! So when I said it was too hard to eat, mum just told me to put it in the bin and be done with it!

Later that evening, I remember I was climbing up the ladder to my bunk bed when I felt a gap in my teeth! I’d never lost a tooth before! I went downstairs and told Mum, who twigged that that must have been the nut that I couldn’t chew earlier! We worked out that it was now deep in the kitchen bin. This is where my Mum is a super hero – she got the bin bag out of the bin, and went right through it to the bottom and found my first tooth. I’m not sure I’d’ve been that dedicated!

Thanks Mum!

Is there a story behind how you lost your first tooth?