Tsunami

A brief aside...

I'm not one to name-drop. I have no need for recognition through association. However, just a couple of days previous, I was lucky enough to meet one of the GLC through an old colleague, Reverend West. I would like to extend my support and wishes to the GLC for their part in the Tsunami 'Wave Aid' concert that is to be held in Cardiff today... a worthy cause and one that will hopefully raise a large amount of cash to support those devastated regions in the Indian Ocean and beyond.

Good luck! It has to be better than what our lot here on the island have attempted.

Absence

Greetings to you all this beautiful day. An unexpected technical glitch stymied my activity over the ether the last few days, but now, through the timely intervention of a close acquaintance, I am able to bring you some news of sorts.

The weather on the island has been horrendous, a strong wind sweeping in across the Irish Sea and blasting our flesh to the marrow, to quote a famous song.

I have taken the opportunity that this communication breakdown has afforded me to improve myself. This involved books, tapes and roleplays with a rather sickly old Monk who taught such skills on the mainland before relinquishing his old life. As such I shall be able to approach my Careers career with added professionalism and utilise a certain amount of motivational jargon, a must in this modern world.

I will be shopping later today to obtain some light refreshments for a gathering of some of the greatest religious minds on the island. We'll be discussing such mysteries as the Trinity, Predestination and 'real or silicone', which of course relates to tits and our preferences thereof. We will also endeavour to get ourselves pissed and, as is traditional, have a proper wrestling tournament. Father Wheeler is a demon (though not literally) at grappling and will be defending his title for the third year. Father Gibbon may also attend, though his erratic ways leave that possibility in the realms of conjecture for now.

I shall report as soon as is practical.

Health Check: Touching cloth (cassock?)

New project

Until now I've been working as a monk does, attending the needs of our monastery and its environs. However, circumstances have become somewhat different of late. Due to some depletion of the inward flow of money, I have been ordered to secure an income for the benefit of the building and its peoples. I undertook a search for suitable employment two months ago, although living on a small island my options have been quite limited. But, last week, things changed somewhat. A debate had raged over whether or not I would have speaking rights on location with my employer. For the future of the monastery it was finally agreed that I should indeed have the right of speech, or else money would be very difficult to come by. With this useful tool I would be able to promote my skills with more force and, I should add, a certain eloquence.

Through connections and acquaintances from such social buildings as the public house and the off-licence, I was directed to a possible solution. After a period of prayer and fasting I contacted the local school and pushed myself forward for the role of Career Advisor. Admittedly I was on shaky ground. With little or no experience I was hardly ideal for the position. The fact that there was no vacancy was a potential issue, but a frank and direct conversation with the Head was fruitful. Initially (understandably) he raised several objections but slowly, minute by minute, he was turned by my persuasive words. I negotiated a worthwhile salary in the process, certainly enough to help my brothers at the monastery, and I left with his thanks ringing in my ears. I hope to be able to guide the young people of this island in their search for a meaningful future.

I am going turn in now as I am worn out, but I will leave you with a few words of education, namely that you avoid eating frozen pizza as it is shit. Cook! Enjoy the fruits of your own labour, not some toss from a cardboard box with plastic cheese and shitty little mushrooms all over the top of it.

Do good?

At the local community centre there's a charity affair taking place whereby people are making stuff to sell. Trouble is, the material is all quite expensive and the amount they'll get for the goods may not make much money for the recipients. Despite this there's a huge 'out-pouring' of emotion and solidarity from the event organisers who imagine their investment of time to be all-important. When confronted by several individuals about streamlining the affair to raise larger amounts of money they got up on their high horses and tried to lynch the duffers.

It led me to think about the matter and brought me to today's meditation subject: At what point is pleasing one's own need for feeling good more important than the good deed?

Helping is a normal process, one that we all undertake each day. To be human should preclude helping other people. What then should we expect to feel about our positive actions? Should we slap each other on the back for a job well done? Should we blow our bugles as loud as possible and tell the world what a wonderful deed we have accomplished? Should we wallow in our own satisfaction? The answer to each question is no. Charity, helping and giving should be accompanied by humility and the understanding that our works are free and without attachment or clause.

Let's not forget that helping does give a satisfaction and a warmth to the helper. This is no bad thing. On the other hand we must avoid becoming a society that lives for such feelings, as they will cloud the judgement of what is best required to help fix particular problems. Charity is giving and helping freely. It should also be about achieving the best outcome for those concerned. The parable of the lady with only very little money giving 'all that she had' remains a fine example of expected behaviour. It's difficult to imagine her going to her neighbours after she left the temple, bragging about the contribution she made. For her there was no need to receive acclaim from others. She carried out the logical plan to an effective conclusion due to her humility.

The subject needs great consideration and as such I can't devote enough time to the process right now. All I want to communicate is the idea that charity is selfless. Attention-seeking is incompatible with selflessness.

The organisers of the charity event will be pissed off if they get wind of my views, especially as the occasional person from the community reads my diary. My best wishes and support goes to all those who are operating beneath the organisers and not getting involved in the self-agrandissement that is blighting the head of this flabby organ.

I must now visit an elderly lady for tea. She has some videos for me to collect, mostly old martial-art films. She's fucking brill.

The day today and the day before today

I really shouldn't have let Father Gibbon's departure affect me so much. He's one of my main studies and outlets, so to speak. I shall follow his future with interest, not least because I want to know if he gets his end away.

I will endeavour to focus more this week and bring you information that will benefit you in your journey through life. What's more, I feel that several major issues will be resolved this week. I shall inform you when I'm ready to share such matters.

I lost at Scrabble to some young upstart yesterday. Battered the swine afterwards and served-up a couple of warnings. I fully expect to win next time.

Dinner for the Bishop went amazingly well earlier in the day. There was little or no spoilage on the vegetables and the beef was adequately prepared. We were even allowed to sit with the Bishop for a while afterwards and drink some beers. It makes me feel guilty that I flobbed in the gravy. Still, I'm not going to hang myself over that bastard.

Meditation

Father Gibbon's run off. I'm going to bed. Have a think about that you bastards.

Holy Holy Holy

Today is our Lord's day. We work twice as hard. I'm part of a small team cooking lunch for the Bishop and his wife. He's the only one of us allowed to have a lady and he rubs our fucking noses in it all the time. He leaves her underwear everywhere just to excite us.

Still, she's ugly as sin. I'd rather try my luck at the local pub.

Earlier, I put Savlon down the toilet. That was weird as it made the water orange. I tried to clear it by adding washing powder but I think I've fucked it all right up.

I'll tell you all about my cooking later and perhaps we can share a meditation.

Crumpets

I had a dream about Elvis and crumpets. He was sat on a rocking-chair and he had two crumpets in front of him, well-toasted, thick and covered in butter. The crumpets were called KING.

*edit* The crumpet was REAL. I saw the advert on telly. I thought I'd dreamt it *edit*

Borrowed a BBC sound-effects record from Father Gibbon to put the shits up visitors. Father Bradley ripped the face off of the locksmith. The police won't press charges though as Father Bradley's son is the Chief Constable and he's a mad bastard.

Father Black has been climbing the walls and fences again, trying to catch birds.