Richard's Ramblings

Roast beef, perfect, and every accompaniment is cheating. 800 ish gr rolled roast, crusted with mustard and peppercorn. Coles. Forget, perhaps I never noted, how much, I never take the receipt from those self-service thingies. Birds Eye frozen roast veg (600 gr, I used 250 ish gr) Aunt Betty's Frozen Yorkshire Puddings, pack of 12, I used 4. Coles Frozen Garden Peas. Sort-of a handful in a bowl. Gravox Roast Meat Gravy with Red wine and Garlic Taylor-made Adelaide Hills Pinot Noir 2021. For two humans, and the odd beef handout to a GSD. _____________________________________________ Take the beef out of the fridge half an hour or so before you want to start cooking it. Rinse bloody stuff off, dry in tea towel. Recipes say pat dry with kitchen paper towel. Nonsense, unless you want bits of kitchen roll stuck to yr beef. Pre heat air fryer @ 190C for 15 mins. Philips (we have a most satisfactory Philips) say pre-heating unnecessary, more nonsense. Put beef into air fryer @ 190C for 10

  We have some new chairs at KUC, comfortable and with arms! Sitting down in church isn’t universal. Some of you might have, er, endured an Eastern Orthodox eucharist where the congregation stands for a couple of hours (and wanders about kissing icons, or pops out for a quick fag, just to, you know, keep the circulation going). While traditional Lutherans sit to sing but stand to pray (and, so a joke goes, lie down for the sermon). In the New Testament, believers are often represented standing around while God the Father and/or God the Son are seated on their respective thrones. A few weeks ago we ended the carol, “Where like stars, his children crowned, all in white, shall stand around”. An exception to this is the Feeding of the Five (or Four) Thousand. Unusually, the story is told in all four Gospels, Matthew 14 and 15, Mark 6 (the eye-witness scene beloved of NT scholars, “sit down in groups on the  green grass ”) and Mark 8, Luke 9 and John 6. Jesus tells the hungry crowd, or asks

 “Lost property”, on trains, aeroplanes, theatres, even churches (KUC has enough pairs of glasses now to rival Specsavers), is a curio-seeker’s dream. Different organisations have different rules concerning disposal. Most Australian rail authorities, for example, keep items for 2 months before donating to charity, returning official documents to the appropriate body, or destruction. Umbrellas feature prominently in any collection. The Southern Region of British Rail (or whatever they’re called in these privatised days) have, or had, quite a few of my umbrellas over the years. Mostly left behind on the 17:35 from Waterloo to Havant, but sometimes, er, “borrowed” by other passengers. Which puts me in mind of a ditty: The rain, it falleth on the just and on the unjust fella. But more upon the just, because the unjust pinched the just’s umbrella. The dittyist’s (is that a word? It is now) muse was inspired by Matthew 5:45, “your father which is in heaven … sendeth rain on the just an

  I’ve just booked a return flight to Perth, to attend a friend’s ordination at Bunbury Cathedral. As they say on product review sites, Pro: A catch-up with our greatest concentration of pals in the southern hemisphere. Good music and liturgy.  The Rose and Crown . Con: Three nights away from Leisa, Maudie and the cockatiels. Long flights, especially west-bound. And airports.   Townsville Airport is still a breeze compared to capital cities. But it’s not quite so friendly as it used to be, since the lovely, dopey security man was replaced by full body scanners. “What’s that in your pocket?” “Er, nothing, oh yes, a handkerchief.” “Why didn’t you put it on the tray?” “It’s only a handkerchief.” “Doesn’t matter, you shouldn’t go through the scanner gate with it.” Who knew that handkerchiefs were such a threat to the safety of the realm? Metal detector, I get, but c’mon, a handkerchief detector?   On the face of it, God has a moral detector to deter me from entering his sanctuary. Ps 24, ‘

  Well, the gate doorbell camera has already proved its worth. My Apple Watch vibrates on my wrist, alerting me that there is a pretty pic on my phone of someone standing at the gate. Or even that their vehicle has just pulled in to the layby. (Handy on bin day, to know that the garbo truck has emptied our bins). One pretty pic was of the real estate agent who sold the house to us, another was of a couple of our members. What they had in common, was that they each bore gifts. Virgil has the Trojan priest, Laocoön, exclaiming (Helen Beck has taught this to generations of South Australians) “Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes”, “I fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts.” Nothing to fear here, those goodies both included champagne. We are quite fond of sparkling wine in general, champagne in particular. Friday night is bubbles (and fush n’chups) night chez nous. Usually a cheap-ish prosecco or Australian sparkling. A mortgage and rising interest rates will put paid to that tradition. An en