Redefining Poor Taste

Permit me to share a brief thought which I believe holds some historical certainty. Whilst there's so little that is known about him, most of the legends about St. George, the patron saint of England, are apocryphal and indeed incredible. However, I’m willing to lay wager that St. George, or anyone in the Roman army for that matter, ever ate at a Little Chef restaurant!

So I’m certain there have been a few raised eyebrows when Little Chef began distributing the flag of St. George emblazoned with Little Chef’s logo. My son and I were surprised to have received one this week, due to the fact we had each consumed a Coke, along with our grease soddened meal.

For those of you on the ‘other’ side of several ponds, the Banner of St. George is the red cross of a martyr on a white background. It was adopted for the uniform of English soldiers during the reign of King Richard I. It later became the white ensign of our Royal Navy and the flag of England. And as with any country, we’re extremely proud of our flag. But not with a commercial logo emblazoned upon it.

Our country is awash with national pride, with virtually everyone flying the flag in support of England’s team playing in the World Cup. But I’m not so certain there are many people who would look favourably upon a small, insignificant, and highly mediocre restaurant chain choosing to deface our flag in such a manner.

For the benefit of those who are not familiar with Little Chef’s, I would love to try to describe one. However, I simply lack the vocabulary to do so. In the states, one might toss up (no pun intended), the name ‘Waffle House,’ but that would be a denigrating, maligning, and inappropriate comparison. I love Waffle Houses – their food and their staff. But size wise, it’s comparable. Take away the creatively cooked breakfasts, fresh salads, plus the inimitable colloquial and friendly style of its staff and you ‘might’ have a Little Chef.

For those of you ‘down under,’ I recall hearing an affectation once used to describe such a restaurant as the local ‘choke and spew.’ And with second grade salad bits from a pre-mix bag, fried eggs that are literally brown and dried on the bottom, and underpaid staff who have lost any motivation, whatsoever, to serve, you get a good impression of the ‘new’ Little Chef.

I realise the Little Chef restaurant chain has recently been purchased. But I should hope that the new owners would have consulted a public relations team before deciding to desecrate our country’s flag. Perhaps I shouldn’t pick on Little Chef too much; there are other companies who are equally culpable. (O2, are you listening?). And whilst I'm on this rant; Madison Avenue please take heed: simply because there's a bit of white on something doesn't mean it's an enticement to put a logo on it!

It’s a pity our country doesn’t have a national chain of roadside restaurants that provide friendly service, good food, and reasonable prices. It could well do with one.

But for now, since Little Chef have deemed it socially acceptable to redesign our country’s flag, perhaps they’ll forgive my small peccadillo by slightly revising one of the greatest poems in the English language:


But on his breast a bloody Cross he bore
The dear remembrance of his dying Lord
For whose sweet sake that glorious badge we wore
And now we vow
To eat at Little Chef

Nevermore!


I just wonder what Diocletian would have done?

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Children In Crisis

When A Crisis Must Take A Backseat To Need

My heart is breaking for the children in Moldova. We have such a crisis on our hands at present.

During my visit over the Orthodox Easter, I told Vasile Batcu that the children would need to be out of Aschiuta Home and in Summer Camp by the 10th of June, in anticipation of the arrival of volunteers, as well as the funds to renovate the children’s bathrooms.

If you read one of my other blogs, ‘Anglicans,’ you will be aware that not only did the volunteers not arrive, the funds to pay for the supplies and local labour failed to materialise as well. We did receive two contributions: one in the amount of USD$850.00 and a subsequent contribution of USD$250.00. There were never any volunteers organised, there was no fund drive at one of the churches. It was an awful situation that affected so many and I only had myself to blame for not following the most basic of due diligence.

With a budgeted cost of circa GBP£4000, or USD$6900.00, we are left in an absolutely dreadful situation. The bathrooms are simply unusable. And with up to thirty-four children in the home at any given time, plus house parents and volunteers, even the absence of one of the two toilets can create a crisis.

I received a joint telephone call this morning from Vasile and Inna, asking me to advise them what we should do. My best guess was that the funds we’ve received will have to go towards some of the camp costs, as the children are already there and utilising the services. However, it doesn’t address what we’re going to do when they return.

It has been an emotionally challenging week. The sadness of the child’s funeral at the end of the week overwhelmed many. Plus my friend Sarah slowly moves in and out of a coma now. I still talk to Sarah, as I know she can hear me, but the lines on her face deepen as the cancer spreads.

As I was leaving the ward yesterday another patient called out to me. Her name is Mrs Pearce. I had not met her before. She was wild eyed and frightened. I had heard her, as I sat with Sarah, calling out to no one in particular, that she wanted to go ‘home.’ Although the ward they're in is not generally for the terminally ill, it just happens that Mrs Pearce is suffering from cancer as well.

Mrs Pearce asked me to stay with her for a bit. She said she was afraid and she wanted to go home. I held her hand and stroked her forehead. I asked simple questions: how many children did she have, grandchildren, where she was born – all truthfully intended to help her mentally escape from her present surroundings.

I promised that I’d bring her some fresh strawberries tomorrow. I’ll need to purée them as she's unable to manage any solids. But I suspect she still may have difficulty in eating them.

It had been my hope that the children and I would escape for our own ‘Star Picnic,’ on Saturday night. I needed a bit of a diversion from the challenges of the week. It wasn’t to be.

As I stood at the nursing station, disinfecting my hands with Isopropyl, one of the ward nurses came up to me. I’ve known her for several years. In fact, I celebrated her mother’s funeral sometime last year. ‘Father, would you mind if we had a word?’ she asked with a sense of urgency in her eyes. ‘Of course,’ I smiled.

As I followed her into the small office I thought she was going to tell me that Sarah would most likely not live more than a day or two. I had already thought this myself, so my heart was prepared and I had imagined how nice it would be for her finally to be free of her pain.

The nurse sat down with me. I glanced over at her desk and saw the photos of her two children; Laura is three and Michael is five. ‘Father, I thought you should know, I’ve just been diagnosed with bowel cancer.’ She said it matter-of-factly.

‘I’m so saddened to hear this,’ I began. ‘Let’s take a break now and talk about it.’
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Dodging One Of God's Salvos

Don’t you just hate it when you hear something that makes you choke on a drink you’ve just put into your mouth? So was the case as I stood before the television listening to the morning news. I’ll have to learn to control myself better, but there are times when I hear things on telly that are so far-fetched, so outlandish, and egregiously inappropriate that my internal organs involuntarily constrict.

This time, it was a brief film clip of a well known, well respected, American religious leader, endorsing and evidently tacitly encouraging, someone in a high enough political position, to sanction a hit man style assassination of another political leader; In this instance, the president of Venezuela, President Hugo Chavez.

I was so stunned that I was unable to capture precisely all of what he was saying, other than the fact he was waxing lyrical over the fact that the US certainly had the wherewithal to accomplish such a task. It’s just that I had never envisaged Rev Robertson to be a Jihadist.

Apparently, the comment from the venerable gentleman was either a rerun or a rehash of the same comment he made sometime last year. I’m not entirely sure. It didn’t matter. It was the fact that a gentleman, who stands (I think?) as a beacon and model for Christian ethics could advocate such a thing.

Now, I must make it perfectly clear; I haven’t a clue what it was the Honourable President Chavez said to have infuriated the Venerable Rev. Robertson to such heights that he would openly talk about having another human being murdered. Perhaps it had something to do with oil? Who knows?

But I do have to wonder, is this what God would have wanted from one of His children? And is this in following with the Christian mantra ‘What would Jesus do?’ I certainly hope not. Perhaps it’s Rev. Robertson’s desire to move towards a theocratic or caesaropapist government. I wouldn’t care to guess. I’m just surprised, and yes, profoundly disappointed.

Our world is already deeply divided and sadly the abyss widens every day. Using provocative and potentially dangerous language can only serve to increase discord. But I do understand that sometimes, powerful messages such as these can be all that is required to get a point across.

The passing blip on the BBC had moved relatively far back into the cobwebs of my mind. And I’m reasonably certain that I would not have ever bothered to write about it; that is until just a few days ago.

It was announced last Friday that Rev. Robertson’s aeroplane crashed off the coast of New York. Sadly, as I understand it, two people lost their lives. Rev. Robertson was not on board.

And as I say, I do understand that sometimes, powerful messages such as these can be all that is required to get a point across.

Take heed Rev. Robertson, God does hear us!

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Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. Matthew 5:9

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