February 2009 Archives

Apologies for the posting delay. I first created this entry after a long day at work last Thursday--only to be utterly disheartened when all traces of it disappeared from the system. Now I attempt to write it again.

As I climb onto my bicycle to trek back and forth from my fulfilling but consuming, work at the church almost every day (and many evenings), it becomes all too easy to lose sight of the magic and privilege of my life right now. When I'm tired after working with kids or helping to organize an event, sometimes the last thing I want to do is put on my tourist hat and get up and explore, especially when free hours are spent working on long-distance Chicago writing and editing projects. But then I remind myself that all of the extra work is done so that I am able to have fun exploring England, and so I get together with friends and we have adventures. Last Saturday I went down to London for a culture day at the Tate Modern and St. Paul's Cathedral (photos coming soon) but on Sunday, February 15, I had the fun of a "wander in the forest."

A large group of us headed to Rufford Abbey Country Park, in Nottinghamshire's own, famous (and sadly depleted) Sherwood Forest. I spent a few minutes exploring the impressive 12th century abbey ruins (find a history of the site here) but most of our time was devoted to taking a walk in the woods.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot of walking to do at Rufford that day. There were many others who seemed to have the same idea, although as the winter afternoon wore on, people left and the sky got increasingly sunny, I began to relax more and more in the peace of the place. Since there were about 20 of us who'd come from Trent Vineyard, we opted for the wide, paved walk along a lake. However, the lake turned out to be pretty small, and we were back where we'd started in half an hour. To my surprise, the group of Brits seemed to collectively shrug their shoulders, and in a moment everyone had started off around the lake again.

"We're going around the lake again?" I asked in some surprise, turning the three guys I'd been chatting with. "Wouldn't it be more fun to strike off on some of these side paths into the woods?"

Again came the collective shrugging of shoulders, then Jimmy spoke up.

"You see," he said, "This sort of attitude is precisely why your ancestors decided they needed to cross a big ocean. What they had in front of them wasn't good enough, was it?"

We all laughed, but then I said,

"And your ancestors, obviously, were content to walk about a little lake over and over again. Mine couldn't wait to explore across the ocean. Who, do you think, had more fun?"

There was more laughter and we then started talking about more serious matters--namely, if we were forced to rate our three favorite cakes, what they would be.

After the cake discussion ended, however (it should be noted that British Ben's favorite cake experience meant flying over to New York City for cheesecake on top of the Empire State Building), I tired of the lake and, spying an intriguing path leading into the golden woods, called out, "I'm going to check this out. Anyone want to come with me?"

My friend Sarah was the only taker, and as we headed off, I heard Jimmy say to the others, "And that is the American spirit in action."

Enjoy these photos from my little adventure.

A few incidents covered in the British press this week have got me thinking about free speech.

I read yesterday about a 5-year-old girl who was admonished by her teacher for discussing religious topics with her classmates. The girl's mother recounted the incident in an email she sent to several friends, asking them for prayer. However, the email ended up in the prinicipal's hands and, since the mother is also a receptionist at that school, she was faced with losing her job for making "allegations about the school."

The incident has opened a firestorm of discussion about religious freedom, especially that of Christians, in a land that still allows Christian prayers and faith to be taught in its state-run schools.

The second thing that got me thinking was a minor controversy raised by television comedian Jo Brand, after she made rude comments about Margaret Thatcher on a BBC programme. Viewers complained about Brand's comments and the BBC was left defending its decision to air the show. What Americans may not realize is that this most recent furor follows several decisions on behalf of the BBC to discipline or remove other presenters (Jonathan Ross, Russell Brand and Margaret Thatcher's daughter Carol Thatcher) after they made controversial comments.

It's difficult for me to know exactly what to think about this BBC situation. Were these presenters on American programmes, I'd say that they have the right to say what they like. However, the private corporation employing them would likewise the right to either support or fire them at their own discretion. No doubt the decisions would be driven by the bottom line (and, of course, meeting minimum industry decency standards), as expressed by the programme's viewers. But these presenters all work for the BBC, which is a government institution funded directly by the people of Britian. (Everyone with a television must pay a hefty monthly TV licence to receive the television signals). The impression I get is that anyone working for the BBC has to make sure his or her comments will be palatable to the majority of the population.

Clearly there are big differences between this religious incident and these media cases, and I can see that people on both sides of each controversy have reasonable grounds for their opinions. But all of this just gives me the impression that I have to be much more careful here in England about what I say at home.

Being in Britain may often be very similar to being in America, but then things happen that make me realize it is a very different cultural climate, after all.

Over the years I've lived on some rather innocuously named streets: Washington Avenue, Randolph Avenue, Ashland Avenue, Elm Drive. Sometimes they have made me yawn (although I did have the delight of growing up on Kashmir Street, a place name that always filled me with pride, redolent as it was of spices and silk).

Here in Britain, my current home follows in the tradition of Elm Drive, being also on a road named after a tree. Ho hum, I've always thought. But after reading this New York Times article --which has the slightly unbelievable dateline of "Crapstone, England" and features a photo with a sign reading "Butt Hole Lane"--I realize that sometimes boring is good.

The bad weather continues in England, with Nottingham receiving another few inches of snow this morning (although most of Monday's snowfall had melted by yesterday) and more predicted for tomorrow. I just can't get over how everything from schools to businesses are being closed left and right, but many people simply refuse to drive on the wet, snowy roads. I'm not sure I blame them--by the time the morning rush was over today there had been four accidents on one flat, four-lane road near by home.

Everyone is talking about the weather. For proof, I pause just a moment to hear what my "English sister" Julia (who's now married and is, alas, no longer my housemate) is saying to somebody downstairs at this very moment.

"I was literally passing car crashes as I went to work," she says. "There was one car stuck in the middle of an island with all of its lights flashing. One of my colleagues had to abandon her car two miles from work and walk the rest of the way."

Last week, however, I was far from Nottingham, down on the South Coast of England near Portsmouth for a conference. Although the conference was held on Hayling Island, I stayed in a hotel in the seaside town of Havant, which has a delightful town centre built on an ancient Roman road system. The parish church (below) dates from the 12th century.

Havant parish church

Soon this freak winter weather will pass and we'll be onto spring and seaside thoughts once more! If only my friends in Chicago were as fortunate!

Today in England we are experiencing the most disruptive snowfall in 18 years. At first I found it slightly unbelievable how a few inches of snow could cause the country to grind to a halt (with flights canceled and London buses pulled from the roads) but then I learned there's been up to 10 inches of snow in some parts of London. I do understand that--given how this sort of snowfall happens so rarely--it would be uneconomical to buy snowplows, install snow emergency plans and take other precautions that are part of every Chicago winter, but I find it curious that the country was so ill-prepared despite five days of warnings.

I'm used to seeing apple blossoms, apples or rain-lashed branches outside this window when I wake up each morning, depending on the season. Today's scene is slightly different.

Here in Nottingham there's been some chaos, as well, with events canceled, businesses and schools closed and, in the schools that remained open, parents arriving before noon to collect their children and take them home so they wouldn't have to drive in rush hour (as one teacher friend told me). However, only about two inches has fallen in the city, although up to a foot could fall in the hilly country surrounding Nottingham overnight. Two inches feels like nothing to me! On the radio the presenter was asking for folks to call in and explain how to drive in snow. I considered calling up and saying, "Don't overcorrect the steering if your car starts to slide," but having once experienced this scary situation and having automatically overcorrected even knowing I wasn't supposed to, I didn't think I was the best person to offer advice!

I had some free time today, and took advantage of the weather, which so reminded me of Chicago, to go for a lovely winter's walk with my friend Jo. We took a quiet, meandering route through the Attenborough Nature Reserve, ending about an hour later at the Nature Centre for cups of hot cocoa. It was perfect, and by far the best way to spend such a day. I was lucky that it was my day off and I wasn't stuck on the roads like everyone else.

Jo and I pause along the woods in the Attenborough Nature Reserve.

This English robin seems quite content with the weather, as well, and obligingly poses on a low-hanging branch.

The many waterfowl who visit the Attenborough Reserve don't seem to feel the cold, either.

This black-watered marsh fills up with snow, and the only sound is the large flakes landing with soft "plips" on the branches and pool.