See here for the article.

Gareth Dickinson (our new pastor) did an excellent sermon on Sunday morning about a film which I now want to see, called “Into the Wild”.  However, the point that he made that really stood out to me was about truth and relativism.  He was saying about the post-modern concept of relativism whereby truth is measurable.  For example, it is a populist theory that my truth is my truth and that it is different from your truth, which is your truth. Therefore it doesn’t matter what you believe as long as it is real to you.  How very sitting on the fence-ish.  Yes, we live in a democracy and this is the essence of a democracy, but I fear that we have coined the term ‘democracy’ to represent a state of ‘godlessness’ in place of “free will” which is a gift given to us by God.

Gareth posed the question, ‘what if truth is not a concept, but a being?’  Jesus said “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life”.  In this instance, “Truth” is a being, not a series of options.  God is ‘truth’ and what He says is ‘true’.  Let us not confuse truth and understanding.  My understanding is different from your understanding but ‘truth’ is either true or it is not.  It is not relative.  Your understanding of truth is relative.

This year I really hope to make truth (God) my foundation.  I hope to understand that what He says is true.  I hope to increase my understanding of truth.

This morning in Sandford Park…. Beautiful!

It is funny to think that we are at the start of a new decade.  What a lot has happened since the last one…  I feel like I should be all deep and meaningful, but I am not really sure where to start! So I think I will just do a brief summary of the last ten years, until I have something deeper to say!

2000: NYE 2000… The millennium.  I was at the Hollands’ party and then Ken and Wendy’s party where everyone did the new year’s classic of singing Auld Lang Syne but only knowing the line “Auld Lang Syne”.  We let off a small firework in the street which looked a little like a depleted tea light spitting out a feather.  Happy new year all.  The millennium, in all honesty, was quite a disappointment.  The world was preparing for mass-meltdown as the ill-fated “millennium bug” was due to strike.  We were handed dubious leaflets with microchips shaped like a nasty beetle on the front, warning us of our inevitable plight.  What was that all about??  In the year 2000 I turned 15.  Expanse (the band I was in) were rocking the town (or at least Pentecost 2000 and BBC Music Live), but that was my life at the time.  I purchased my second mobile phone to feed my social addiction and hung out with all my favourite friends at school.

2001:  2001 – GCSE year….  This was stressful.  I took English (x2) , Science (x2), Maths, Music, Geography, French, Russian, Statistics and short-course Electronics (most of which my future husband did for me!) This was also a year of much silliness at school.  Ellie and I took great delight in being at war with the headmaster’s daughter, who constantly had a dig at us in science.  We took a hair grip belonging to Ellie, which was shaped a bit like a beak and, coincidentally, Rachel’s nose.  When you squeezed it to open it, it looked as though it was talking and was perfect for mocking her slightly irritating tones.  I am sure that all is forgiven now.  My greatest delight was watching her kangaroo-jumping daddy’s car across the car park in 6th form because she had just passed her test and was determined to show off her skills to willing passengers.  Seriously though, I remember these things fondly and hold no grudges now.

I also remember Mr Scott setting fire to my hands in science (all part of a controlled experiment!) and throwing sticky rubber frogs on the ceiling, one of which almost landed on Mrs O’Grady as she stood bent over a desk.  I also remember the terror of accidentally recording Mrs Pierrpont and Mr Brotherton on my C3P0 voice recorder and playing it back at double speed as they entered the room.  One just didn’t cross Mr Brotherton….  It is funny that all of these events seemed to have happened in science… I clearly just didn’t really enjoy it all that much.

Hmmmm although then there was music.  Enter Russell the fainter.  Russell was great, but had a habit of fainting at least 3 times a day.  There was one epic occasion where we were messing around and I was playing Phantom of the Opera on the piano.  Lee, James and Russell were singing along in dramatic tones when all of a sudden I turned round and Russell had, well, disappeared! “Wh…Where’s Russell?” I asked, somewhat confused.  I turned round both ways.  A ninja??  Then I looked down.  There was Russell, lying like a Mummy across the floor, out for the count.  I dashed to reception and informed them, whereby the receptionist rolled her eyes and said, “Again??”

Then came my GCSE recorded exams, which all went very badly (although I got good marks?!)  The music recorded exam included a ‘directed rehearsal’, which is where you basically play a piece you have never seen before, whilst your teacher plays a recorder and you tell them what to do.  The last thing I said to my teacher was “We need to make more of this pause.  When we reach the end of the bar I will bring you off with my hand.”  This is all recorded on tape and whatever happens, you must leave the tape running and only have one shot.  We reached the end of said bar and I forgot to make the appropriate conductor’s gesture which enables the recorder player to breathe.  The note is going on a bit long and the teacher is getting seriously short on breath.  As she leans back, turning purple in the face, her chair slips, falls off the stage, sending her with it in a plume of skirt and jumper crashing down onto the microphone stand.  The recorder makes an insubordinate squeak and clatters across the floor.  The other teacher who is marking the exercise looks like he is about to wet his pants with laughter.  The injured teacher stands up and says “Sorry!”  and I have to carry on despite dying with silent laughter as if nothing unusual has occurred.

My french recorded exam was no exception.  I forgot an answer.  My teacher said “Have you ever had any problems whilst on holiday abroad?”  “Oui!” I answered enthusiastically.  “Q…uoi?” he said, reminding me that I was supposed to elaborate.  I froze.  “L’annee dernier,” I ventured, “nous avons les vaccances en Venice. Ma mere a tombee dans la canal.”  (sorry I can’t remember the grammar!!)  “Vraiment???” asked the teacher with visible panic in his eyes.  “Oui.” I said, nodding seriously.  “Et c’est un probleme pace que….?” he asked.  “Parce que elle a perdu les cles pour la chambre d’hotel!” I blundered (can’t do relevant accents – sorry!)  The teacher looked perplexed.  “D’accord…” he said wearily.

2002:  Anyhow I had survived 2001, 2002 was brilliant.  It was the first time in my entire school career that bullying was not at the top of the menu.  I was one of those kids who seemed to attract mocking.  The trouble was I used to try to stand up to it, which fuelled it somewhat, although it is what I would recommend others to do too.  It was not the kind of bullying that you could sort out by naming and shaming a kid either, because you’d wipe out half of all of the three schools that I attended.  Basically, if you could be teased for it, I was.  It is little wonder that I am not a house built from confidence and self-esteem.  Still, 2002 was different.  A lot of the people who hated me gained some kind of respect for me because of my music and because a lot of the childish kids had left.  So I made some good friends.  I’d lost a fair few friends at the end of year 11, but I made friends with Ruth, Chris, Mike & Mike and various other people in 6th form.  We hung out a lot and had a great laugh.

I was also blessed with some great teachers.  My music teachers were brilliant.  Always encouraging, always up for a laugh and always encouraging us to write and play music.  My art teacher, Mr Hazael was a real source of inspiration and I credit him to this day for a large part of my career choice.  I hadn’t done art GCSE, so turning up to my first art lesson in a few years was terrifying!  Our first assignment was to draw our hands and feet.  My heart sank and particularly when he made us all put them out on the table.  All the miniature Picassos and Van Goghs strutted their stuff and when I sheepishly laid mine out everyone laughed at my toes, because my 2nd toe is quite dramatically longer than my big toe.  I wanted to cry and never do art again.  Mr Hazael said that he liked the pictures because they had their own style.  I spent that lesson drawing a still life, which I folded up and hid under the table before anyone could see it.

However, as time went on, I grew to love art so much.  Every time you brought in a painting he would say that he loved it, even if it was awful.  He’d think about artists that you might like and recommend them.  I started making bigger paintings, knocking them up over night.  I was hooked.

Geography was horrid still.  Staff and pupil bullying but all par for the course.

English was a laugh.  Mr James the grumpy arse who couldn’t stand any of us really and Mrs Flood the Irish Catholic ex-nun who regularly hit me over the head with books and called me a heretic because I wouldn’t agree with her theories on purgatory!

This was also the year that I started going out with JT.

Ok got to speed up this is taking a while!

2003:  Took the A Levels.  They were really hard work.  A three day art exam where you weren’t allowed to speak, music exams and massive written exams for english and general studies.  I managed to get straight A’s (a miracle given that my IBS was kicking off big time by this stage and I ended up in hospital later on for a few days).  Had a great laugh throughout the year though, putting on concerts, going on a music tour to Italy (fantastic!), painting, being silly…. Etc.

2004: I lived in a pink house with 6 other people – brilliant!  This was my gap year with Trinity where I had a lot of great experiences, the most memorable being a trip to Brazil!  As we flew over Sao Paulo (which takes about half an hour) I knew that I was going to love this place.  It really was one of those weeks that changes your life.  The people I lived with were brilliant and we all had a great year.

2005: I continued working for Trinity and this was also the year that I got married!  A brilliant wedding with lots of people there and flowers from TESCO and Waitrose!  What a great day.  JT made his own suit which rather stole the show and we had a fantastic honeymoon in Florida.  I LOVED Florida.  We visited the Magic Kingdom at Disneyworld, visited some friends in Jacksonville and stayed in Clearwater where we could Jet Ski, lie on the beach, swim in the pool and visit some awesome places including a water slide theme park. I also worked for Otis Seven earlier in the year – what a job!  I loved it, although it was short-lived.  This is where I met my now business partner Mark and my great friend Monty English.

2006: Continued working for Trinity but decided to do a degree finally in graphic design with the view to starting a design business.  Started the course in September

2007:  Uni uni uni.  Great fun!

2008: More uni!  Even more fun.  Was quite ill towards the end of the year with IBS-related anxiety.

2009:  Graduated from Uni with a first (miraculously, considering at the start of the third year I couldn’t leave the house).  Set up a design business with Mark and rented an office.

2010: Started the year well with an article about Pink Sky going out in the Echo tomorrow…. Watch this space.

Happy new year everybody!  Well 2010 came in with a bang, we had a delicious meal chez Hoggstars, rescued a stray Chinese lantern (which proceeded to set Mark’s foot on fire!), watched a bit of Jools and then had an impromptu party in the street.  Other highlights included some Nintendo Wii, some fridge poetry and general banter.  Excellent.

My new year pudding on my new pink cake stand Chocolate brownie cheesecake!

Getting ready….

Turner and Hogg!

Beautiful George

Rayfield (now not on fire) and Turner

“But when she got there, the cupboard was bare”.  This is quite a regular occurrence in the Turner household.  Our initial instincts told us to go to Lidl.  However, when we got to Lidl, I was in a bad mood.  There was no reason for this, I think it was just the mundane routine.  We parked in a free space two streets away because we didn’t have cash for the carpark, then realised we didn’t have a trolley token.  So we hauled two baskets around Lidl only to find that they didn’t have any meat, the veg was, well, brown and that no matter what went in the baskets, nothing would make a healthy meal.

So in a fit of rebellion, we decided to drive to Gloucester and go to ASDA.  It was brilliant!  Cheaper than Lidl would you believe?  For an affordable store, ASDA is very well branded (not just the big clumsy letters, but the use of green and the typography that is consistent throughout the store etc).

We had a nice time just meandering around.  The staff were polite, the queues were tiny and the trolleys were free!

We like.