Christmas

My custom is to invite single friends to my home for Christmas lunch. This year I thought I’d take a back seat. Ann Marie mentioned that she was organising Christmas lunch for people in church who were on their own. Originally she expected about 20 people, but in the end about 85 signed up – clearly there was a need for it! A collection was taken up in church to raise funds for the dinner and a chef volunteered his services. Ann Marie also organised a Secret Santa, where church members picked up tags, with a brief description of each guest, from the back of the church and bought for them a present worth up to £5.

The meal was of a high standard! I was placed on a table with a family from Borneo, and it was lovely getting to know them. We had a table of homeless guys next to us that Ann Marie had made friends with on Barnet streets, and I got talking to them too. They had to leave early though because they were desperate for a drink. John Coles, one of the vicars dressed up as Father Christmas, and dished out the Secret Santa presents. I got a Van Gough writing set. And then while his 3 children provided musical entertainment, a guest magician, Chris, moved around the tables performing the most amazing party tricks. It was a really good day.

On Boxing Day and on the 29th, I volunteered at one of the Crisis Christmas Homeless Shelters. We had a fairly decent building this time – didn’t smell of damp and was adequately heated. There were more advisors and Samaritans this year than in previous years. They put the homeless in touch with social services and agencies who help them out of homelessness in the year. We had skilled volunteers like doctors, dentists, opticians, entertainers, hairdressers, masseurs, manicurists etc. I always go as a general volunteer where you do odd jobs and mingle with the guests, but wish I had a practical skill to help out with next year. Maybe that could be my New Years Resolution?
Unfortunately, the shelter was full, and we had to turn away some people at the door. Consequently none of us general volunteers relished front gate duty. It was not pleasant as the people we turned away were understandably angry and called us names- but there was nothing else we could do – Fire Safety officers would have shut us down and then every one would have been out on the streets.
There were a few familiar faces from previous years – guests and volunteers. I am always struck by the fact that how normal these guys are and that ANYONE can be homeless. It is just by the grace of God that I am not. A group of Eritreans’, who didn’t speak much English, were pretty much on their own due to language barrier. I sat at a table with one of them, Berhane, and while trying to communicate, it came up that Eritrea had once been an Italian colony, and he spoke a bit of Italian. WELL…my Italian lessons FINALLY came in handy and even though we spoke in simple sentences and in pidgin Italian, we had a decent conversation. One of the other volunteers overheard us talking and joined in- speaking rapid Italian. Berhane frowned and said he understood me, and not the Italian!
The 29th was emotionally difficult because it was the last day the shelter was open. The weather for New Years Eve is predicted to be -5º, and to think that people whose names and faces I know will be out in that, my heart aches! I wish we could do more. The shift leaders assured us that they try to do as much as they can to help these guys. I just wish we could do more!
So that was my Christmas!

Christian behaviour

Once you tell people that you are a ‘practicing’ Christian, your life turns into a fish bowl. Every one expects you to behave like Mother Theresa, and to be honest most times it feels like they are all out to jump on to your every shortcoming with comments like “And you call yourself a Christian” “That wasn’t very Christian of you, was it?”
You've got the fundamentalists who just give Christianity a bad name, with their lack of love - I am thinking here of Westboro Baptist Church that picketed the funeral of a gay marine with anti-gay slogans in 2007. Like the family members didn't have enough grief to deal with!!
The guy, who tiled my bathroom floor a couple of years ago, is a Christian who showed very little integrity. He probably had 2 jobs going at the same time and was not honest about it…. And he did a shoddy job. When I pointed out some of the areas that needed re-doing, he said I was nit picking!!! For 500 pounds I will nit pick thank you very much!!! I was so upset to the point of incoherence that my flat mate who is used to dealing with difficult people stepped in to help. And then to cap it off, after ALL THAT, he attempted to evangelise to her. So embarrassing!

Yes I know I should take out the plank from my eye before I point out the splinter in my brother’s eye! I certainly can point to very un-Christian behaviour in my life - a lack of integrity at work, lying, gossiping, lack of chastity… the list is endless. And that’s just the outward behaviour… You wouldn’t want to know what goes on inside!

Sometimes it feels like the people in my world who are not Christians, are better Christians than I am.
Last weekend, as I was walking with a non Christian friend in West End, I ignored a woman who was begging on the side of the street. My companion stopped and fished for his last change (I know this because he literally emptied his wallet and pockets). A few seconds afterwards, he pointed out someone else who needed help. Embarrassed about my in-action with the ‘beggar’, I agreed to help. This woman was crying and engaged in the futile exercise of hailing a cab in a very busy section of Soho. They were all full. We tried our best to hail a cab for her and when that failed suggested that she moved further down where she was likely to catch one that was free. I even called 118 118 to see if there were any local cab firms about. Suddenly she started shouting at us like as if it was our fault she was not catching a cab. My friend looked at me imploringly
“ Kim, you’d better take over here cos I am at my wit’s end here” I tried to calm her down, make her see reason, but it just wasn’t working – she was distressed. Eventually she ignored our advice and went charging up the street, leaving us behind – so a failed attempt to help. Oh well!
But you know, I was really challenged by his compassion and willingness to get involved. Last month he organised an event and raised over 1000 pounds for Stop the Traffik- a global movement working to combat people trafficking.
I’ve become so blind to the needs around me, so caught up in a hedonistic, self-absorbed lifestyle. I am ok for displaying Christian qualities in church-organised events. Or helping out in the Crisis Homeless shelters at Christmas –and ignoring the homeless for the rest of the year. Maybe this is a wake up call for me to get off my arse and get involved. Being of an obsessive nature, there’s always the danger of getting over-involved to the point of ineffectiveness – it’s happened before. But maybe this time I will learn to establish some boundaries. I’ll start small… and aim to help one person a week? Is that too ambitious?
And perhaps I should keep surrounding myself with friends who display Christ's character, piggy back on to their efforts and learn from them.

Platonic = Fun

The soldier and I have exchanged text messages almost everyday. I have to remind myself that he only views me, in the words of Dawn Eden, as... 'a piece of meat - a rare an attractive piece of meat, deserving of the highest respect, but meat nonetheless.' *

Yesterday I told him that I have taken a vow of chastity and prefer to have great platonic relationships with men which are much more fun.
'Your shitting me, you must get really frustrated'
'I don’t! Can’t explain it but I really am quite content'
'That’s ok; I suppose it’s less complicated'

I haven’t heard from him since …

Speaking of great platonic relationships last Saturday a good friend Fredrik phoned me up and asked if I wanted to go with him for the Landscape Photographer of the Year free exhibition at the National Theatre (held from 17 November to 17 January). Freddy is into his photography and whilst the photos in themselves were stunning, he was a fount of knowledge regarding the different techniques used. Afterwards we strolled through the German market stalls along the South bank, bought fudge and drank mulled wine.
And then to the O2 Arena (formerly Millennium Dome) in North Greenwich. There was a merry go round that Freddy asked me to get on to whilst he took photos with his ever present camera. Got this lovely shot!

We then went into the Body Worlds & Mirrors of Time Exhibition in the 02 bubble (£14) by German Professor Gunther von Hagens or Doctor Death - an anatomical exhibition of real human bodies that have been preserved by a process called plastination. Apparently these people donated their bodies to be displayed. There were about 200 bodies!! This is one of a dancer. Once again, I find this western culture weird because in Uganda it is taboo not to bury your dead. Heck when I told my mom I wanted my organs to be donated and body cremated when I died, she almost had an apoplectic fit. (Fred is of the opinion that these were really German prisoners with no human rights who were killed for the exhibition). The exhibition wasn’t as creepy as I thought it would be because the bodies looked …well… plastic. The most impressive displays for me were the giraffe which towered about 30 feet above us and the fascinating foetuses at different stages of growth from week 2 to week 8. You can distinguish the features at week 8, and yet in this country it is legal to abort them! The theme of the exhibition was aging, death. At the end of it you are handed a Life Certificate

in recognition of resolve and committment to embrace a healthy lifestyle,

accept physical and intellectul challenges,

strive for fellowship, and live a purposeful life in longevity.

And then there is space for you to write down your personal committments to long and healthy life.
Fred cautioned me not to sign it, because that would give Doctor Death a reason to abduct, kill and use your body for his exhibition!

Hmm I think someone has been watching too many Sci Fi movies
It was a really chilled out day, and I wish I had more like that with guys!
They ARE a lot more fun!

* Chapter 1 (page 6) of 'The Thrill of the Chaste - finding fulfillment while keeping your clothes on' by Dawn Eden

This month's flava..

My personality is such that I prefer to deal in ABSOLUTES. If I can’t have exactly what I want, I’d rather do without. For example, I want a new Apple Mac, but can’t afford one at the moment, so won’t compromise and by the cheaper PC’s which I can.

And so with men!

Last Friday, I organised a karaoke night, in one of those clubs where there is also a dance floor. In the middle of my rendition of ‘Cheeky girls’, I felt arms around my waist and then move up and down my hips. I turned around and discovered that Little Sam is not that shy on the dance floor. He then tried to kiss me…’Hang on! He’s not old enough to do this’…. I pushed him away and wagged a finger at him “You are a dangerous boy! Dangerous!”
Ok he is 28 (but looks about 20) – so not so young, relatively good looking... short. He comes up to me most Sundays, mumbles hello then stands there leaving me to carry the conversation. It really is hard work as he isn’t terribly communicative. I try to ask open questions, in an effort to get at his “Hot Buttons” (you know? A subject that is important to him or he feels strongly about) but in the months that I’ve known him, the only thing I’ve got is his ACCA course and exams. (Yawn) Conversation is mainly one way as he never asks me questions, it's stilted and normally ends in awkward silence, with me looking busy with tech stuff, till he gets the hint and leaves!

After karaoke, while we were waiting for our respective night buses he tried to bring up what had happened. I decided not to help him out.
Sam “Did you have a nice time tonight”
Kim “Yeah, it was cool, A lot of fun”
He stood there biting his lip; I could see from the expression on his face that he was desperately trying to think up what to say next. Fortunately (for me) his bus arrived!
“There’s your bus! Hope you get home ok”
As he hugged me goodbye he whispered in my ear just before he boarded “Bye Kim, I love you!”
Kim “That’s nice, bye!”

For some reason I think he’s been planning to say this for months! I got home and found a message from him on Facebook “I love you my sweet! Hope you got home fine”
Then on Sunday after the service he came up to me at the AV desk and tried again. “Did you enjoy the other night!”
“Yeah! It was great””
He shuffled from one foot to the other while I busied myself on the computer looking through my pictures on Facebook. He couldn’t see what was on the screen and assumed I was doing tech team stuff. Finally he said
“Kim and her computer. Always busy”
I made an apologetic face” Yes! Really hectic time of the year. We’re kind of stretched at the moment”
Now at this point, my kind of man would have offered to join the team to help ease the burden. We HAVE sent out countless appeals for volunteers…Sam is just not my type.
I was going to set him straight after he had completed his tough Accountancy exam today. I got a text
"Exam's over! Now it's u all the way...darling" GROAN
I immediately picked up the phone and called him. Told him that I was not looking for a relationship that right now I think is my time to remain single and I'd prefer to just be friends with him. He seemed to take it with good grace, saying that if that was what I wanted then he would respect that. Phew!! Let's just hope it won't be awkward at church

It’s so strange that now when I am in a place where like Lieutenant Dan in Forest Gump, I have made my peace with God and I am happily single- NOW is when all the guys show up

Temptation in Bognor - a reminder of my humanity

I often hesitate to write Christian articles, because I’m not really an authority on Christian matters. I strongly believe that the mettle of your faith is tested outside the comfort zone of the ‘Four Walls’ of Church. Like mine was!

At Butlins, I’d been practising speaking Italian all weekend with the Sicilian couple in our Fancy dress group. Earlier in the day I’d remarked jokingly (??)
“Your boyfriend is cute, does he have a brother”
“Yes an older brother, Marko who lives in Rome. He’s single. We’ll hook you up with him!”
It was all going swimmingly well. So in the evening, I thought nothing of it when the boyfriend asked me to keep him company while he had a cigarette outside. Once we got there he grabbed me, pulled me tight against him, and his tongue was down my throat! The cheek of it…. and his girlfriend just upstairs? When I got over the shock (must admit it took a while because he was sooo cute) I gently disengaged and reminded him that he had a girlfriend, whom I happened to like a lot and I didn’t think we should be doing this. And what about hooking me up with your brother Marko?
“Pretend I am Marko for tonight”
“No…. think of your girlfriend. I’m not doing this to her. I like her”
He accepted this with a meek “Ok!” (he was trying it on really) and we went back in. The girlfriend didn’t seem to notice that we were avoiding each other. I felt really bad. I saw one of the guys in the group talking to her and I thought, Oh no, he must have seen us, he’s telling her that he saw us kissing, I’m going to get bitch slapped here. You know what women are like! They always blame the woman even though I didn’t initiate anything and took the moral high ground so to speak.

Remember the suited, bra & thong guys? My Australian roomy had made friends with them, and I chatted with one of them that afternoon. He’s in the army – which explained the nice body. Yes I'm sucker for muscles. I thought he was just being friendly but later on I realised this had been a ‘fishing expedition’ to establish that ‘the coast was clear’ before he could make his move. And make his move he did! Not in the unrefined grabbing way of the Italian. He took his time - clearly skilled in the art of seduction! In the disco, he hovered on the fringes of our group and then somehow manoeuvred me to himself, next thing we are slow dancing, he is making me laugh, then we are kissing. He was a good kisser; just the right height and I could feel his biceps through his shirt. And me, who until then had sworn that I was asexual, never feeling anything when I made out with guys, was REALLY struggling inside. When the tone started turning towards ‘Lets find a room’, I hastily excused myself and went to the Ladies; sent a text message to my mate SJ- never mind it’s the middle of the night, she’s in Nigeria and this is going to cost her!

“SJ, at moment I am very tempted to have sex with this guy. I am seriously turned on; he’s got a great body. Please pray for me LIKE NOW!”
A text straight back from her “I’m on it girl! Avoid bein alone & do WOTEVA IS NECESSARY 2 keep urself out o dangers way!”

Bless her heart!!!

Reinforced with SJ’s advice and prayers, I told him I was going to bed ON MY OWN and suggested that he take a cold shower and do the same. He walked me to my room, tried one last time to change my mind, but I held firm (…only just)

Okay so now it’s official. Italians like me, and I am not asexual. I’m not super human either, and not a very good Christian. If I was, I wouldn’t have got myself into that position in the first place. But I’ve also proven to myself that prayer works because the only way I didn’t go 'all the way' with this guy was through some serious DIVINE INTERVENTION. I read in 2 Corinthians 4: 7 (NLT) this morning,

We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves

So true, So true

Skool Reunion at Butlins, Bognor Regis

Last Friday, 20 of us from the London Fancy Dress Group went to Butlin’s ‘Skool Reunion’ weekend. We descended on the coastal resort in Bognor Regis with about 4500 other revellers.
Butlins Holiday resort is England at its tackiest. It's littered with arcade machines, fast food restaurants, cheap looking bars, fun fairs, a water park with slides, cheesy holiday reps, the common sight of binge drinkers. Definitely not classy. In terms of accommodation, I went prepared for the worst (think cheap youth hostel with communal showers) so was pleasantly surprised that our twin bed chalets were clean, had ensuite bathroom and amenities like iron, kettle, TV. We paid for half board – which included breakfast and supper. Everyone in the group moaned about the food – for me it wasn’t too bad as I had been expecting the usual bland English affair... and that's what we got!

The atmosphere was festive and everyone smiled and talked to each other just like in Summer. A lot of silliness takes place. It’s great! There were a variety of interesting costumes on display. The ones that stood out were the 2 guys in dark suits who looked decent until they turned around to expose open backs showing the bras and thongs they were wearing underneath! In the Five Star concert, which I went to on my own because it clashed with Right Said Fred, I bonded with an ‘Amy Winehouse’ crew, and a group of ‘school girls’ who like me knew ALL the words, and dance steps to the songs, and screamed every time Stedman glanced our way! There was a lot of Super Heroes, a break dancing Scooby Doo and Mystery Inc, Surgeons, a Sheikh with his bodyguards, Cat women, The Joker from Batman dressed up as a nurse… I really miss having a camera!
Friday night, we dressed up as school girls – knee high socks, short tartan skirts, white blouses un-tucked and enough buttons undone to show a little cleavage. My roommate was a crazy Australian, who was there to get drunk and score with the boys. She kept going back to the room to top up her ‘fruit shoot bottle’ with the vodka that she’d snuck into the resort. A couple of other girls had the same goals. I don’t really like vodka, and I couldn’t keep up with them – so gravitated towards the Mediterranean’s in the group. It was great hanging out with them as they did not have social barriers in expressing themselves; greeting with hugs and kisses, a touchy feely group – reminded me of the guys I grew up with back home.
Saturday, we went as netball teams and had a private room cocktail party in Room 3.
Sunday we dressed up as old ladies (the boys too!!), and played Bingo in the Irish Bar, which according to Andy, our Fancy Dress group organiser, was ‘Boring in an intense kind of way’. Afterwards went for a fencing lesson.
Quite funny sword fighting dressed up as old ladies. Watched football and later on changed into 80’s themed outfits for the night’s entertainment. There was live entertainment every evening with old pop acts from the 80’s like Right Said Fred, 2 Unlimited, Five Star, Bewitched, 911; a really good tribute band for The Madness called Complete Madness.
Butlins is not for everybody though. A couple of Americans in our group, left after just one night. Apparently one of them ripped her fingernail. I don’t know what they’d been expecting, but we figured that maybe it was just too tacky for them and they were looking for an excuse to leave. Having fun is pretty much an attitude, and life is what you make of it. The appealing thing about Fancy Dress parties is that people let down reserve and slip into character of the costume, sometimes their alter egos. I was taken aback when my Aussie roomy told me that she was a Matron (so quite senior) at a London hospital.
I felt like I bonded with the group and I am looking forward to our Christmas party