Learning to crawl

It's strange after all these years finding myself with new eyes for the world that disappeared while studying, and new legs that haven't yet learned to stand.

What have I learned in this new life as an ordained entrepreneur?

That I am finding unexpected common ground with all kinds of people outside the church... and suspicion from unexpected people within.

That it's hard facing up to the meltdown economy, but good to share that experience with so many.

That there are people attempting amazing things that I would never have discovered unless I had found this nearby and altogether less heroic path.

That people are hungry for meaningful connection and that the church has largely lost the reputation of being a group that does just that.

That however it may have felt during the curing, cutting and canning process of theological education, the insights and instincts of twenty-odd years in marketing are back and busy.

That I can - just about - crawl.

Jo Ind's Memories of Bliss / Love God - a response

One of the compulsory courses is "Sexuality and the Pastoral Encounter." One part was to read various things and respond in writing for discussion. I read the above chapter - certainly provocative.

My response may or may not make sense, perhaps it's of rather narrow appeal. If you like it, thanks; if not, put it down to the hour or so I spent downing a capuccino with an extra shot in Heffer's while reading and then writing.

We all believe in some high god these days:
True atheists are odd and hard to find.
But what name shall we choose to name the one
Who sits in bland approval of the world,
Or else, who drums celestial digits and
In whispered words recruits his terror squad?

Can God be "love"? and if so, be this love
Whose drumbeat calls each wallflower to dance?
Is Christ a flirt? And is the blood he shed
A pheromone that wakes our loins to him
So that (we know not why) we lie with him
Upon that hill, beneath that spreading tree?

I'll tell a story of a tragic fall:
Of Eden lost and lovers under curse;
Of Christ who came to mend the broken way:
"Love one another." Yes, we could, in part.
Full freedom needed ways we all could join
The sacred cult of infertility

I'm sorry, Jo. I think you've traded in
A shining mirror for a muddy pond.
God's love is vaster than our minds can grasp;
Unbreakable - and faithful to the last;
All-powerful - yet tender, chaste and true;
Known partly till Christ comes to claim his bride.

My Fair Ridley

Sadly my camera let me down this year so no Youtube, but here by popular (!) request are the lyrics to the Parsons/Edwards mini-musical, with apologies to Messrs Lerner and Loewe...

If you don't know 'My Fair Lady' then you should. Buy it! Or search on Youtube and you'll find the originals of these songs by various worthies. Or just try the links I've put in for you.

The scene opens to a slightly bewildered-looking person who has just received some news...

I Could Have Failed My BAP ("I Could Have Danced All Night")
[BAP=Bishops' Advisory Panel, three days away leading to advice to your Bishop whether you should be recommended for training to ordained ministry in the Church of England]
BAP, BAP, I could have failed my BAP
I could have called the Bishop 'Dodgy Dick'
Job, job, I could have kept my job
But now I've got to train to be a vic

I could have failed my BAP
I could have failed my BAP
What made me such a fool?
I could have run away
Gone off on holiday
But no, it's back to school
I'll never know what made me so convincing
I'm like a crab caught in a trap
I only hope the rest were smart and flunked the test
I could have failed, failed, failed my BAP

[Job's comforters appear on cue]
I understand, friend - but it's all planned, friend
Don't cry for milk that's spilled

You didn't fail your BAP
Now there's no turning back
It's time for you to go
Where would you like to train?
We want to fill your brain
With stuff you don't yet know

And now I know what makes it so, so frightening
I'm off to vicar factory
At least I get to choose
What have I got to lose?
Because I passed, passed, passed my BAP

BAP passed, it's time to visit theological colleges. So many to choose from. It's a gamble. Will luck be a lady? Hmmm, I should have written this as Guys and Dolls, shouldn't I?

Wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley ("Wouldn't It Be Loverley")
All I want is a room somewhere
Small and dark and I have to share
One good and one duff chair
Oh, wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley

Lots of chocolates and all fair trade
Lots of lunches just like home made
And I'd be poorly paid
Oh, wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley

Oh, so loverly readin' lots of that theo-lo-gee
I'd be happy I'm on B, C, E, F or even G ("What about H?" "Nah, miserable bunch")

[Assorted Ridlebeests are espied about their joyous daily routine]
"Someone said morning prayer all wrong"
"Must we learn yet another song"
"The basement showers all pong"
Oh wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley (Rid-er-ley)
Rid-er-ley (Rid-er-ley)
Wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley


Cut to a few months later. Student life has begun, and bewilderment has increased. Still, there's plenty of time for reflection afforded by the journey between the Cambridge Theological Federation colleges' rooms, conveniently strung out around the Inner Ring Road. As the sun twinkles romatically off the juggernaut that just tried to run you down at Westminster College roundabout, oh! what a beautiful morning it is. (Oklahoma!, that's what I meant to rip off I mean pay homage to.)

Off Round The Ring Road Again ("On The Street Where You Live")

I have often walked down this street before
I am tired and I am grumpy and my feet are sore
It's compulsory to do an SCP
So I'm off round the ring road again

A contemporary church, that's what we all seek
We've got Books of Common Prayer and we are learning Greek
And it's very odd, there's no time for God
'Cos it's off round the ring road again

And oh, the wonderful feeling
Just to know he's somewhere, not far
But now my poor head is reeling
No-one told me Ridley doesn't have a bar!

Once I thought I knew all that I believed
But a lecturer has told me that I was deceived
I'm going round the bend: Jesus was my friend
Now I'm off round the ring road again

And oh, the wonderful feeling
When we come together to praise
I know when I am kneeling
That he's chosen me to serve him all my days

I've been broken down: that don't bother me
If they laughed at the Messiah then they'll laugh at me
Now this lecture's done, and it's ten to one
So I'm off round the ring road again

[SCP=Social Context Placement, time spent outside study in an unfamiliar environment]

All good things come to an end... If you don't blot your copybook too badly, you'll be ordained, somewhere. Your sending diocese may have something for you, or you could be 'exported.' In regular life, companies export things people want. The Church, of course, works differently: dioceses export unwanted ordinands to seek their fortune elsewhere... Hmmm, perhaps I should have written this as panto, not Eliza Doolittle but Dick Whittington?

I’m Getting Deaconed in the Summer ("I'm Getting Married In The Morning")
I'm getting deaconed in the summer
If someone wants to ordain me
I've been exported
Must get it sorted
Get me to a curacy

I've got to clear off in the summer
"Where?" Well, you'll have to wait and see
Profiles I'm reading
Mostly misleading
Help! I need a curacy

What can I handle? Will I be go...
...ing up the candle or snakebelly low?

I'm a Leaver - leaving in the summer
What have I learnt? What will I be?
Rural team cleric?
Urban evangelic?
How do you choose a curacy?

I need to buy some medieval kit
There's an allowance - don't spend every bit
(Save some for the bubbly)

[Majestic finish]
I'm getting deaconed in the summer
This ship is searching for a See
Ridley's done my brain in
Three years more training
Are waiting when I start
Are waiting when I start
Are waiting when I start my curacy

So, friends, it's been a low trick. Three years, or two years, or one year of training leads to... three or four years of training. Bah! Humbug! I knew I should have written this as A Christmas Carol. Sigh. As Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every one.

Dreaming Spires

Being in theological college provokes all kinds of questions.

What’s it for? Why do you study for two (or one, or three, or four, or seven) years?

One question I have as a Church of England ordinand is: why, when these days most of us enter training with a significant amount of post-school ‘life experience’ (not my phrase, and yes, that mainly means we’re oldies), is the philosophy to treat this as at best an occasional inconvenience, at worst a positive barrier to effective ministerial formation. I do not mean this question flippantly, and certainly not disrespectfully.

One part of the answer is probably crude economics. It’s cheapest to train a relatively undifferentiated group in a relatively undifferentiated way. And I marvel, in the case of the college I know best, how far the five loaves and two fish go towards feeding us all; yet the biblical parallel fails, as there are no crumbs left over.

But this is crude economics. To the extent that we comply in suppressing rather than expressing the knowledge, skills and experience of whatever portion of life preceded training – to precisely that extent we are buying into a questionable model of priests (presbyters if you prefer, same root word) as not merely specially set aside for service, but as specially set aside from life.

With the people I know best here, I know some of their story and some of their talents, of course. But I also see those stories being condensed – in them and in me – into another volume. And if this were not true at least in part, something would be wrong, because we must learn to be different from that past self and to do differently. And yet...

We have offered our whole selves. I must learn to say simply, with Jo recalling her sacrificial offering of hair,

“I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that was the end of it. I never snivel over trifles like that. I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table, and felt only the short rough ends of my head. It almost seemed as if I’d an arm or leg off. The woman saw me look at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep. I’ll give it to you, Marmee, just to remember past glories by, for a crop is so comfortable I don’t think I shall ever have a mane again.”

And then,

“It’s only the vain part of me that goes and cries in this silly way.”

Sprung Incompleteness

I enjoyed today's In Our Time, on Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem (where I lead, Melvyn follows 8v) ).  So it's not just me who says not all that is true can be proven, nor all that is false disproven.

There was a more practical demonstration of this in our Common Room Meeting today, when a room-full of ordinands were so struck with the futility of words that we agreed to do nothing about something we had previously agreed was burdensome and unjust when it was announced, that we had just agreed had resulted in all kinds of problems, and that we were experiencing directly as some of its impact fell on them.

We are, though, considering buying more newspapers every week.  We will therefore be better informed on all kinds of injustices in which we are less involved, in respect of which we have a less credible voice, and about which we will agonise and do practically nothing.

[I wrote those two paragraphs first with 'they' not 'we,' because mine was one of the voices raised against defeatism and inaction, but did I press my point? No.  So it's 'we,' all right.]

We are the future of the church.  Lord help us. Lord help them.

I feel like the Roman confronted with a dish of battered eels - O Tempura! O Morays!

Mission is possible

Four of us have been on mission in Ely Cathedral this week. Not 'a mission' but part of the ongoing mission, working as day chaplains and talking to anyone and everyone who ventures in or near the building.

Ely is a small city with a big cathedral, thanks to the Saxon Princess Etheldreda, who founded a double monastery (for men and women) in the 7th century. It became a place of pilgrimage, leading to the building of a great Norman Abbey with Etheldreda's shrine, and the establishment of the cathedral and its diocese.

The cathedral church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity suffered a setback in the 1300s when one of its towers collapsed, but this led to a great symbol of resurrection with the building of the Octagon and its lantern that draws a quarter of a million visitors a year to the former swampy island.

The Victorians carried out major refurbishments, opening the inside of the building into one glorious sweep, installing the beautiful stained glass windows and building a beamed and painted roof that draws gasps from all but the fussiest (and most historically naive!) visitors.

More recently, refurbishments to mark the millenium included restoration of the Lady Chapel, a new enclosed processional walkway and a range of sculptures around the building. Well over a thousand years of praise and prayer are in the foundations of this church (buildings and people).

So much for the history. The present is the 'nerve centre' of Ely diocese, which includes Cambridge and Huntingdon alongside the many fenland towns and villages. Until a couple of days ago, that was my diocese: my 'sending church' is a Cambridge church, Holy Trinity, so I came to train as an Ely ordinand.

Ely isn't exactly short of ordinands, and I now know I'm not one of the privileged few who will remain but one of the large majority who are 'exported' - so my hunt for a curacy somewhere starts here. Or it will when we're past the grieving stage. Meanwhile, back to the week of mission.
Four of us - Jamie, Nick and Stefan and myself - donned cassocks and badges and met between us lots and lots of people. Our job in a nutshell was to offer prayer to and for all who felt in need, and to help all our visitors to relate the buildings and their history, Jesus whose story is told by those buildings, their fixtures and the daily pattern of services, and their own life and story. Not in a ramming-religion-down-your-throat kind of way, just being available, friendly and taking a few risks. It's genuinely a privilege to meet so many people from so many places near and far.

Looking up in the octagon there's a 14th century statue of the crucified and risen Christ, showing (assisted with Victorian paint and beams from every age in between) one hand raised in blessing and displaying the wounds that mark the brokenness he received from us and took into the very heart of God for us.

His blessing offered freely and his voluntary suffering are always the beginning of the Gospel. For our own issues we receive not always relief, not even an explanation, but always that loving, wounded hand reaching out to take ours.

It's the end of the year

It's Indiana dodging boulders,
It's one great weight that's off my shoulders,
It's time to file away those folders;
It's been, it's gone, it's done.

It's one lap run, with one soon starting,
It's seeing such dear friends departing,
It's books in panniers I'm carting;
It's sobering; it's fun.

It's raisin' hands and currents catching,
It's free range exams and how they're hatching,
It's heaven-scent that we're dispatching;
It's basking in the Son.

Hard words

Well, it's great that I've finished with exams for the year (although there's still some teaching to come).  

But...

Next year, same ordeal.

However, that's something for another day.  Meanwhile, with the pressure off, time at last to get a little croquet and perhaps a punt or two into the mix :D

Ridleians grapple with contemporary issues of conflict

Time flu

He looks like I felt. Flu was the story of my Easter holiday, and as someone who isn't often ill I'm a lousy patient.

Not good for reading, revising or writing, sigh.

(In case you're wondering about the picture, Doctor Who came to town - assorted monsters, at least - for Science Week.)

So this, the traditional time for lazy pursuits, needs to be the term when Jack is a very dull boy indeed. Hence I suspect I won't be a-blogging much or often.

I thought I was fully recovered at the end of last week, but here at the end of this week I realise that I was still a long way off form - so maybe there's a bit of post-viral pain still to come. But with that reservation, at last I'm back somewhere that I can get excited about what I'm reading, hearing, seeing, doing.

One sign of that is that I need a little time to digest what's exciting, usually through another activity like cycling, poetry or photography.

For several reasons I could have done with a free morning, but I'm very glad I made it to Michael Green's lecture.

21 years ago, it was in his study that I turned my back on the clinical atheism of my teenage years and the trendy agnosticism of the start of my twenties, and got set on the path that got me here.

Twenty years late, maybe, but perhaps even this dry old stick may bud and blossom.

Wholly Weak

From a busy end of (teaching) term to a busy vacation - assessed essays to write, Greek to get back on track.

It's at this stage of the course - next term has a few teaching weeks then exams - that lots of us are thinking about the tension between learning and developing for ministry.

If only we knew what, from all this, will be useful, what we'll forget and regret, what we'll look back and wish we'd taken better advantage of the opportunity to explore.

I take great comfort from generations of ordinands who have completed courses like ours and lived out fruitful lives of ministry; I take note with humility of the statistics for stressed-out and demotivated clergy.

Please pray for those in training, especially those going ahead, this year's leavers who will very soon be heading off to parishes around the country, longing to be as Christ to those to whom they are send, offering their weakness and seeking his glory.

Liminality

Well, I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've used that word.

A time of transitions. For Cambridge ordinands, term began last week, and I have now completed two 'Federation Intensives,' namely Race Awareness (excuse the dated sounding name) and Godly Play.

Having worked in the Caribbean, and been had similar corporate training, my expectations for this course that is compulsory for all at some stage were a little mixed. The issue of racism is clearly a live one, but it is all too easy to end up with a less than useful guilt-fest, exposing authentic and imagined guilt.

In fact I both enjoyed and, I believe, benefited from this course, given a light touch but in no way superficially treated by Bev Thomas. What did I learn? Probably the most valuable outcome for me was finding a few new ways into understanding the issues from a more rounded perspective than I have had access to before.

One piece of that was the well-known-to-many-but-not-me "Blue eyes/brown eyes" exercise. If you know it, read on. If not, grab this link: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/divided/etc/view.html

Next came Godly Play, looking at and working with a specific system of religious education - OK, that makes it sound deadly, which it wasn't - and introducing the topic of spiritual development in children. This topic seems to stir up strong feelings one way or another, although because the term sounds rather generic it's hard to know how directly people have experienced what we saw, which was an environment, methods and resources (related to the Montessori tradition), not simply a way of telling stories.

We were led by Rebecca Nye, an academic turned practitioner who first brought Godly Play here, and had a great time, mostly at floor level getting a child's eye view of the process.

I could go on, but I'm more inclined to direct you to the Godly Play UK website, and do a little more reading and reflecting myself. I will say that I was impressed by what I saw, and the approach made sense of some of the joys and the frustrations from my own experience working with younger children in a church context.

(Oh, and frustratingly I used some response time in our complete session to start a poem on journeys, but I think I must have left it behind, bah, I need to go ahead of the admittedly weak - sorry! - 'Turkey.')

This blog also proves that my 'new' laptop seems to work. The old one has a serious problem with its screen, and it turned out that a second hand laptop was more viable than a repair. This one came via eBay, and I confess to a little nervousness, but so far so good...

The normal teaching timetable starts tomorrow, so this is the calm before the storm. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more...

Term ends - part one

Well, that was quick. The University term has finished, though for us ordinands there is still another week to go. Some courses, some time for reflection and some time together.

So what profound thoughts and reflections do I have?

Hmmm...

It's strange, though in some ways strangely comforting, to be mildly infantilised again. There are relatively few choices to make; there is in the main a kind of assumption that we all need to go back to the beginning - justified, I suppose, even if occasionally frustrating.

But something is lost, too. We arrive, fully connected to the world around us. And one by one, the ties are cut. And the danger is, of course, that we become churchy people, not Jesusy people.

So that's the challenge, I suppose. To remember - and act on the knowledge - that Jesus mixed with all the wrong people, held all the wrong opinions, said all the wrong things. Yet, "anyone who has seen me has seen the Father."

...coming up for air...

It has not been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon. I spent a good chunk of the weekend asleep or at least sitting quietly responding to little or nothing.

Tired, but happy at least.

More to follow, but meanwhile here's proof of matriculation - or at least that the three of us first years attached to Sidney made it to chapel!

Reflections - Noughth Week

OK, Cambridge doesn't have a noughth week as Oxford does, but I can't think of a better way to describe it.

So many faces, so many impressions, so many hints and happenings...

Let me offer you just a sketch of life and events here.

First, some basics.

One important focus of Ridley life is the staircase. We live in, study in or are otherwise attached to one - in my case, it's the second of those options, sharing a study with Toby, another married ordinand.

So this morning, for instance, we had morning prayer on the staircase. Christina led, and as this is the day for alternative approaches she chose an Iona-influenced style, simple and reflective.

I wonder whether I'll find more time and space to write while I'm here... In any case, the following brief verse came to me while we were choosing and reflecting on a single word in prayer.

***

Feed

In hope and expectation we arrive.
Our hearts cry out to you our deepest need:
Pour out your love that we may grow and thrive.
In stillness hear the softest voice: "now, feed."

In joyful expectation we are sent
Into the field where you have scattered seed
And some grows strong; and some is bruised and bent.
In stillness hear the softest voice: "now, feed."

***

Some time I'll put something about our first foundation lecture, which also included a time of commissioning. It's quite personal, so you'll have to wait until I've digested more thoroughly.

From today's, though, I heard something from Jeremy (another one - there are several of us here!) that struck me as the starting-point for ministry. I won't have his words exactly right, but anyway, in the context of what it is to receive the grace of God shown in Jesus Christ, he said something like this,

"Sometimes people talk about grace and faith as if it boiled down to presents
we receive or will receive from God. Well, we get bored of gifts.
But we never get bored of someone who loves us."

So, back to the much more mundane, but still important, topic of food. Like most prizes of great worth, this treasure is guarded most fiercely as you can see here.

Everything hinges on getting used to signing up in advance for meals. There is a superficially simple system involving index cards, plastic boxes and paper clips: these can be dealt with on previous days, or at latest by breakfast time. (I have got the hang of breakfast, by the way :) )

Like chess, there are a few basic moves to the game, but the appearance of simplicity is exceptionally misleading. Novices like myself fall prey very easily to the subtleties.

There is grace in the system, though: the end of the queue, behind those successful signer-uppers, is a place of optimism that is generally justified.

Suffice it to say that I now regard the advanced players with great esteem.

Well, that was maybe not a very structured reflection. But then, it is noughth week (to me, at least) and so life feels a little chaotic. By a couple of weeks hence, the regular timetable will have well and truly kicked in, and everything will be relatively neat and tidy I'm sure.

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying my time more than I can say. I am so grateful for this opportunity to be trained for full time ordained ministry, and delighted to find myself in the company of such an interesting and varied group of people.

The next few days will be quite busy, as there are events and functions to do with college. I'm rather looking forward to matriculation - my first chance to wear that MA gown, which I'm amazed but delighted to find has survived the ravages of time.

As a slightly older student, it's rather reassuring to see that the rhythm of University life is drawn by the same force. The tides ebb and flow, regular and predictable in an overall sense, yet close-up there is never the same pattern left on the sands by stones that are washed up and exposed, then washed out and disappear from view.

My new home from home

It's great to be settled in. Past the half way mark through the first week seems like a good moment to gather up some first impressions.

The overwhelming sense I have of Ridley so far is of a genuine and warm feeling of community. The student body is very mixed in terms of age, experience and background and in some contexts I can imagine that leading to all sorts of awkwardness, but I see every evidence to the contrary here.

Of course, we're still in a slightly artificial time. Our term has begun, as has some of our teaching, but the typical pattern of life is still a week or two away.

We had the Federation introduction session today. This was hardly the first time we've mixed as a Federation - the New Testament Greek introductory course has plenty of people from all around, for instance - but it was the first time we've gathered specifically to meet one another.

We all (as far as I could tell) co-operated by mixing like mad. My report is: there are plenty of people at least as odd as me, we're all oozing goodwill and ecumenism, and if we keep it up there's a very real danger we'll catch a glimpse of the one holy, catholic and apostolic church.

If we do, we may well get to change the world.

Over the top

Today was the welcome day - getting together as a staircase and as a whole community, ready for the new term.

I've now met my 'study buddy' - see above :)

The week ahead is full of introductions, reviews and admin, plus some work before the full term begins next week. I will also be a member of Sidney Sussex College, so I'm doubly a fresher.

Gulp. Here we go...

There at last!

Well, I now have a staircase, a room and my name on the wall. (A day before I thought we'd be able to get in.) So it must be official.

I also have a very full calendar, all of a sudden. I'm relieved that from random conversations, there are plenty of people who haven't really got started on their New Testament Greek, so I even feel a teeny bit smug.

Moving in felt a bit strange. Not quite winding back the clock 20 years, but some elements of that. All those bookshelves look so empty, in spite of a couple of boxes of books. They'll fill up soon enough.

I met about a third of my staircase. Everyone seems reassuringly normal. (Why does a bit of me still expect Christians in general and ordinands in particular to be, er, a bit odd?)

Perhaps I should populate a wish list, in case any wellwishers feel like subbing my library. I'll toy with that idea a little (which is competing in my head with an address to send Caffè Nero vouchers).

King's Views

Kings College - like a lot of Cambridge buildings - has great chunks of scaffold spoiling the view right now.

So note my raw photographer's cunning in eliminating the unsightly object making use of the handy tree. Almost indetectable.

King's Parade has now hit the calm-before-the-storm stage. Plenty of tourists are still around, but a tiny fraction of the height of summertime language student 'n' tourist frenzy. Lots of students about to arrive, though - quite a few are to be seen making scouting visits with parents in tow (or, more probably, the other way round). I'm very probably taking the Cambridge University BTh, but continue to take the view that nothing's certain until it's certain. If I do, though, I'll be a member of one of the colleges, although it's Ridley itself and the wider Federation that will be the centre of life and study. (Who takes the role of the Klingons, I wonder?)

Meeting assorted Ridleyites (Ridleians? Ridlish? Ridlonians? I must ask), one of the choices seems to be how much to get involved with college life, and one of the temptations is to end up in an ordinands' ghetto, thus using the crucial formation time here in Cambridge to lose all touch with real life! There's a benefit in being in Cambridge already, of course - we already have a group of friends, neighbours and school gate acquaintances. I hope I will get to enjoy a bit of college life, though I realise that 'mature students' have a cloak of invisibility to rival Harry Potter's when around straight-from-school undergraduates. (Nice to have a chance to sport my MA gown at the odd formal dinner, though ;) ).

Here are my resolutions to give me some chance at least of mixing in a bit at college:

• I must resist the temptation to cap every student's travelling tale with one of my own from somewhere more exciting or six of my own to show range of experience
• I must resist the temptation to gloat over those juggling student loans when we CofE ordinands are funded (and indeed I got a student grant first time round)
• I must resist the temptation to name-drop people and places and companies from the last 20 years in order to compete with the energy and fresh-facedness all around
• I must resist the temptation to try and relive student life first time round

I'll let you know how I do with all those!

Back to the view at King's.

Another alternative to photography is to use the digital dexterity of my photo editing software. Guess which object it removed for me, and with what it replaced it when I asked (nicely). No peeking at the first picture, mind.

It's a wonderful thing, technology, isn't it?

Right. Back to work!