The Sunday morning event in Coventry delivered an 'announcements-fest'. I was itching to give them a blast of 'Mad dogs and Englishmen' as part of a substantial spot on the trip. But Andy asked if he could make an extended sharing about changes to Sunday nights' programme. To add to the distractions, Iain was positioning three large cardboard boxes at the front to collect items for the container going to Sierra Leone. One was marked 'Kids', and there was an obvious interpretation that disaffected parents could do some sort of trade-in. And then they were due to have a Jesus Centre housekeeping day. "Well we'll just have to cut the bible teaching, and perhaps opening worship, to get all this in..." I jousted with Andy.
The meeting started well. The band gave us a good lead on Jesus Culture's 'Worthy is the Lamb'. I was proud of Gav, and it was good to coincide with Rob's busy schedule. Simon followed on by sharing how he found himself floored by the perceived chaos of the imminent changes in the Region. I wondered if Noel Coward may not seem too irreverent. For the uninitiated, here's the words.
In tropical climes there are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire, to take their clothes off and perspire.
It's one of those rules that the greatest fools obey,
Because the sun is far too sultry and one must avoid its ultry-violet ray --
The natives grieve when the white men leave their huts,
Because they're obviously, definitely nuts --
Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
The Japanese don't care to, the Chinese wouldn't dare to,
Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one, but Englishmen detest a siesta,
In the Philippines they have lovely screens, to protect you from the glare,
In the Malay states there are hats like plates, which the Britishers won't wear,
At twelve noon the natives swoon, and no further work is done –
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
It's such a surprise for the Eastern eyes to see,
That though the English are effete, they're quite impervious to heat,
When the white man rides, every native hides in glee,
Because the simple creatures hope he will
impale his solar topee on a tree.
It seems such a shame that when the English claim the earth
That they give rise to such hilarity and mirth –
Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
The toughest Burmese bandit can never understand it.
In Rangoon the heat of noon is just what the natives shun.
They put their scotch or rye down, and lie down.
In a jungle town where the sun beats down, to the rage of man and beast,
The English garb of the English sahib merely gets a bit more creased.
In Bangkok, at twelve o'clock, they foam at the mouth and run,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
Mad dogs and Englishmen, go out in the midday sun.
The smallest Malay rabbit deplores this foolish habit.
In Hong Kong, they strike a gong, and fire off a noonday gun
To reprimand each inmate, who's in late.
In the mangrove swamps where the python romps
there is peace from twelve till two.
Even caribous lie around and snooze, for there's nothing else to do.
In Bengal, to move at all, is seldom if ever done,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday, out in the midday [x7] sun.
You can hear the original on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BifLPGi4X6A
On the journey home, I substantially relaxed. My last official duties before getting round to packing were done. Sharon had given me a wad of US dollars, and Iain the decent video camera, so bits seemed to be falling into place at last.
Very early today I was awakened by Colney texting to say he'd like us to bring some wristbands (Jesus Revolution, etc) for his wife. Mercifully, I drifted back to sleep. I can report to Kelly that I'm getting into better shape. When I rang Resources to place an order, Ruth announced that the Farm Household would be spending the evening packing for Nathan. Great back-up. Hannah even sent me a copy of the travel and medical insurance policy.
I managed a successful first fill-up of my luggage before doing my usual Monday morning admin at the Jesus Centre. The case for check-in tipped 18kg with just a pair of shoes and pair of trousers to go. That's not going to create too much problem when we transfer to domestic flights in the middle of the trip.
Who knows, I may even get an hour on the cross trainer before bedtime tonight.
The meeting started well. The band gave us a good lead on Jesus Culture's 'Worthy is the Lamb'. I was proud of Gav, and it was good to coincide with Rob's busy schedule. Simon followed on by sharing how he found himself floored by the perceived chaos of the imminent changes in the Region. I wondered if Noel Coward may not seem too irreverent. For the uninitiated, here's the words.
In tropical climes there are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire, to take their clothes off and perspire.
It's one of those rules that the greatest fools obey,
Because the sun is far too sultry and one must avoid its ultry-violet ray --
The natives grieve when the white men leave their huts,
Because they're obviously, definitely nuts --
Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
The Japanese don't care to, the Chinese wouldn't dare to,
Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one, but Englishmen detest a siesta,
In the Philippines they have lovely screens, to protect you from the glare,
In the Malay states there are hats like plates, which the Britishers won't wear,
At twelve noon the natives swoon, and no further work is done –
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
It's such a surprise for the Eastern eyes to see,
That though the English are effete, they're quite impervious to heat,
When the white man rides, every native hides in glee,
Because the simple creatures hope he will
impale his solar topee on a tree.
It seems such a shame that when the English claim the earth
That they give rise to such hilarity and mirth –
Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
The toughest Burmese bandit can never understand it.
In Rangoon the heat of noon is just what the natives shun.
They put their scotch or rye down, and lie down.
In a jungle town where the sun beats down, to the rage of man and beast,
The English garb of the English sahib merely gets a bit more creased.
In Bangkok, at twelve o'clock, they foam at the mouth and run,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
Mad dogs and Englishmen, go out in the midday sun.
The smallest Malay rabbit deplores this foolish habit.
In Hong Kong, they strike a gong, and fire off a noonday gun
To reprimand each inmate, who's in late.
In the mangrove swamps where the python romps
there is peace from twelve till two.
Even caribous lie around and snooze, for there's nothing else to do.
In Bengal, to move at all, is seldom if ever done,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday, out in the midday [x7] sun.
You can hear the original on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BifLPGi4X6A
On the journey home, I substantially relaxed. My last official duties before getting round to packing were done. Sharon had given me a wad of US dollars, and Iain the decent video camera, so bits seemed to be falling into place at last.
I managed a successful first fill-up of my luggage before doing my usual Monday morning admin at the Jesus Centre. The case for check-in tipped 18kg with just a pair of shoes and pair of trousers to go. That's not going to create too much problem when we transfer to domestic flights in the middle of the trip.
Who knows, I may even get an hour on the cross trainer before bedtime tonight.
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