Day 3

Today began with the 62 of us modelling Year 1 pupils by jumping up and down doing action songs and telling our talk partners about the bears we had brought in. (I don't have a bear, so I took Joukahainen, my toy tiger, instead). We were then visited by an actual bear (she was real, she must have been, she talked to us! Although she did look uncannily like our course director dressed up in a furry suit...) before being divided into groups to begin preparing our own bear-themed presentations. This included the discussion of such weighty matters as whether it would be more effective to collect real leaves from outside or make our own out of paper; and the extent to which we needed to bowdlerise our invented world ("But if the Fox eats the Rabbits that will upset the children!")

Later we visited an actual Early Years setting, which was fun. It was after school so there were no children there, which was kind of nice, because we got the chance to play with all the equipment ourselves. And they gave us cake!

I'm really liking the idea of Early Years (as opposed to Key Stage 1). The Early Years Foundation Stage (the equivalent of a curriculum for 0-5 year olds) is great, as evidenced by the presence of a row of small wellies, ready for when the children want to go outside in the rain; videos and photos of children getting totally covered in mud and clay; and planning that involves listening to the children, seeing what they're interested in, and taking the learning from there. I could write so much more about play... but something tells me it's likely to come up again another day :)

It begins.

Today was my first day at Teacher School! This morning I made myself a packed lunch, found my pencil case, put on my uniform (not really!) and set off on the 25-minute walk to campus. On arrival I was, to my surprise, greeted by name by a lady I didn't recognise (she introduced herself as Elaine, and I realised she was the very helpful course assistant I had been emailing). All the PGCE and Education students piled into a big hall for an introductory talk, which in fact consisted of three introductory talks by three different people.

After the introductory talk, the PGCE students were taken off to a room upstairs to have an introductory talk. This was followed by a short break, and then another introductory talk. After that we did some science, which was fun: I won a bookmark for making a plasticene boat (it floated, but only just!) and we all did some Science Karaoke.

After that we had lunch, and then there was another introductory talk. After which we were separated into tutor groups and went to our different rooms for... wait for it... an introductory talk!

Then we went home.

Walking back along the seafront (yay!) I pondered the heaviness of my rucksack, newly filled with stacks of paper all about teaching small children. I guess I'm supposed to read it all, although not right now. Most of it is standards and procedures. But we were given some actual homework: a science audit to complete. The idea is that we test ourselves to see where the gaps in our knowledge are (although we do have to forward our scores to the science teacher!) The audit is available online, so if you're really bored, have a go and see what you think. I'm ashamed to say I only scored 73% (but I blame that on the confusing diagrams!)

On the whole, I think it's going to be fun.

Soup Kitchen

Sometimes, God is hilarious.

I've been getting all excited about big ideas like 'community' and 'hospitality', feeling a strong desire to live in a loving way - but without quite knowing exactly how to go about it. So a couple of nights ago I had a pray, and felt that one good idea would be to try to set up a meal to invite homeless people to, or lonely people - the kind of people who'd appreciate a good meal and someone to chat to. I wondered vaguely if at some point something like that might happen through my new church.

Then this morning at church, the sermon was about anointing: how we can know our calling, but it is only by the anointing of the Holy Spirit (given by the grace of God) that we really become effective - become natural - at doing whatever it is that we're called to do. We were invited to go forward to be anointed (symbolic!) and prayed for (powerful!) and I felt it would be right to go, so forward I went. Michael, the minister, briefly asked what I felt my calling was - "Community, hospitality and loving people," I replied. He prayed and said he had an image of me loving people practially, giving out bowls of soup, that kind of thing. I was excited at this confirmation of my vision, presuming that it meant, at some nonspecified time in the future, I would be equipped to feed people.

But within 40 minutes, there I was, handing out actual bowls of soup to hungry people!

It turns out that Ebenezer already run something called The Kitchen every Sunday, providing a three course meal and company for people who need it. It turns out that it's run by a lady in the cell group I went to on Wednesday, and who was short of helpers today and asked if I'd like to go along. I did indeed like to go along, and I think it's something I may well become involved with long-term. I'm amazed that this vision came to be so quickly - but I know that God meant more than just this, and I'm really excited to see what happens next!

My first excursion

Today I had my first excursion by railway from Scarborough. It felt momentous, somehow... Scarborough feels more like home now that I've been somewhere and come back to it.

York was the destination of this first trip [1]. York, glorious county town, oozing with history; brimful of Roman, Norman and Medieval architecture; abounding in narrow, winding streets and Norse-influenced onomastics. Yes, there are tourists, modern high-street chains and lots of cars and buses... but there are gargoyles! A river! The Railway Museum! So many things to enjoy!

I'll try not to idealise it too much, but I've always loved York. Today Pam and I spent some time soaking up the stillness inside the Minster. I was excited to find that you can go up the tower - I don't know if you used to be able to, but I never have before. After enough spiral staircasing to make us quite dizzy we emerged into the shining blue world of outside. The sky was fenced off from us but we could see for miles: Clifford's Tower; the city walls; the North York Moors; even Pam's house! Definitely well worth the climb.

After a sandwich we wandered through the food festival, all agog to see whether this cornucopia of sights and smells could offer any cake that took our fancy. We found that, indeed, it could. The largest and most chocolatey muffins I have ever seen, and I mean ever. Mmmm!

A trip to Clifford's Tower and a sit beside the river in the sun concluded a very pleasant day of touristy exploring. And a conversation on the way back to the train station suggested another idea for a blog post. Pam and I had been talking all day about books and kept recommending things to each other, but I knew I'd never remember them all so I asked her to send me an email with the top ten. Then I thought other people might be interested too, so I've posted my top ten here. Have a look, let me know what you think, and post some recommendations for me to look up!


[1] Well, first apart from Whitby last week - but that was more of an impromptu family trip. And it was by car, not train.

When the Internet Breaks

My internet 'connection' has not been working very well recently, which is why I haven't posted anything for a few days. Sometimes it's fine; other times it just cuts out. Frustrating. Even Thom couldn't tell me what's wrong with it!

So, in the absence of instant communication with everywhere in the world, I've actually been doing a little pre-course reading. I have several nice books here, of which I think my favourite is The Excellence of Play by Janet Moyles. Not only does it have the best title ever for a textbook, it's also full of interesting articles and research showing how valuable play can be in the classroom. Marvellous.

I've also been walking along the clifftops (it's surprising how much the sea distorts things you're trying to look at - I was staring at a speck for absolutely ages, unsure whether it was a wave or a distant boat... I think I need some binoculars!)

Baking bread has formed another occupation in these heady pre-course days of freedom. Not to mention my (varyingly successful!) endeavours at cooking Indian style food, reading the whole of The Life of Pi (very good, I'd recommend it) and even... tidying my bedroom!

I've been doing a bit of churchy stuff too. Last night I went to a cell group where I met some very friendly people, and this evening I'm going to help out with the alpha course. I often find alpha frustrating and there are many reasons why I don't like it, but it's what the church is doing, I want to be involved, and even if it's not perfect, it's better than doing nothing. I've been reading The Irresistible Revolution again too (well, bits of it) and getting all excited.

Time, I think, to go and partake of some of that freshly baked bread (mmm).
Oh, and in case you're wondering, it was a boat.

Scarborough by Night

It got to about 6.30 this evening before I realised that I hadn't yet seen the sea today. Very remiss, I felt, given my proximity to it, so I wandered out for an evening walk along the front, and took a few photos. They're all taken with my phone, as my film and digital cameras both managed to stop working about a month ago (woe!)

South Bay, from over by the harbour

I love the green illumination on Spa Bridge!

The geology museum just down the road

Ebenezer Baptist Church

I have just been to one of the most beautiful church services I've ever experienced. It was beautiful not because of how the building looked, or because of how the music sounded (although I did enjoy it), or for any external reason - it was beautiful because of the Spirit of God present among us and within us, and because of the sense of welcome and community I felt.


We began by singing some worship songs in a modern style. These gradually gave way onto a period of silence, infused by the Holy Spirit. To my great surprise, an individual suddenly began to sing. He wasn't singing in English - I didn't recognise what the language was - but I did recognise the recurring word Iesu. The style of the song was somewhat reminiscent of a monastic chant. After some time he began to sing in English, translating what were praises to Jesus. After that, other people spoke, or sang, what was in their hearts. Sometimes we all joined in, and sometimes we didn't. We waited on God. It was beautiful.


After a time the band began to play again and somebody read from the Bible over the music. Then came a talk about the importance, and the difficulty, of using the gifts God has given us to serve him. It's not always easy, and it's often demanding. Sometimes what we have to do can scare us. But this is how we serve our Lord. It's not about setting up a comfortable life, a comfortable church, for ourselves. It's about being obedient and showing God's love to the world.


At the end of the service, there was conversation galore! Indeed, before the service had even ended, one of the elders approached me and surprised me greatly (in a good way!) by asking whether I might be willing to come on the Alpha course the church is about to run, not as a guest, but to help out. They were in need of volunteers around my age, and had been praying about it in the afternoon. I was (and am!) terribly excited - I know that God has reasons for my being in Scarborough other than the PGCE I'm about to start, and though of course I will ensure that I give my studies all the energy they demand, I know that if God wants me to be doing other things too he'll give me the extra energy I need for that. I was made to feel even more welcome (and even more excited!) by chatting with some other church members, being generally invited to the stuff that goes on at Ebenezer - and even being given a lift home by a very kind lady called Helen.


I am delighted to feel so much part of things already. It seems that this is the beginning of God's wonderful answer to many of my prayers: prayers about how to serve him; prayers for opportunities to love people practically; prayers about community; prayers that I would find people in Scarborough to be with; prayers that he would guide me to the right place. Thank you Lord!

Three whales, one Abbey and 199 steps

Mum, Luke and Ed have been to drop off the rest of my stuff (in fact most of my stuff) which I'd left in Cambridge. Thank you all very much!!


After we'd unloaded the car (not as easy as it sounds, as you'd notice if you saw the steep slope my house is built on!), and of course sampled Cake No. 1 (recipe now posted below), our priority was to take a trip to the cornucopia of Sutcliffe Family nostalgia that is Whitby. Most of my classic childhood memories seem to be associated with Whitby: wandering in awe around the huge ruined abbey; sitting right on the edge of the cliff eating our sandwiches; counting the 199 steps; fudge from Justin's; fish and chips on the beach; and, of course, playing in the sea until we were almost blue with cold.


Yesterday was a fine opportunity for us all to reminisce about these and other things. I liked the new set-up at the Abbey - they have a big visitor centre now, with some interesting displays, and a new back entrance. I was a little disappointed by the audio tour (which pronounced Cædmon incorrectly, talked about his poetry without quoting any Old English at all, and was generally read in a very over-emphatic way) but the abbey itself remained as craggily peaceful as always. They've now fenced off the sloping cliff-edge where we used to happily gambol about eating our picnic; clearly the authorities sided with Mum and Dad's view that it was a little too dangerous. The pier remains the same - as does Justin's Fudge Shop, even down to the 'bags of scraps' we always used to buy. 


But we were very disappointed, scanning the skyline on the opposite side of the valley, that we couldn't see the whale's jawbone arch. Passing through it had been an almost ritual event in childhood trips to Whitby: shivering slightly, awed at the immensity of the jaw and disquieted that it was real bone, I would walk nervously through the arch. I never dared to actually touch the bones, but a trip to Whitby wasn't a trip to Whitby without it. Suddenly one of the boys glimpsed the arch, there atop the cliff after all. We climbed the slope to go and have a look, complaining as we approached that we had remembered the arch as being much bigger.


For once, though, this feeling was not just one of nostalgia. The arch we remembered from our childhood had, it turns out, become too fragile through erosion to remain in place any longer. It was replaced in 2003, after a worldwide search for spare whale bones, the council being wisely unwilling to kill a whale for the sake of preserving Whitby's heritage. This new arch is made from the jawbone of a bowhead whale [1], and is 15 feet tall, a good 5 feet shorter than the one we remembered. So it wasn't just that we had grown since the old days - the arch actually has shrunk as well [2]!


[1] Killed in Alaska by Inuits.
[2] It seems that the arch I remember from my childhood wasn't the original either. The first whalebone arch to stand at Whitby was placed there in the 1850s, and is now in the Whitby Archive and Heritage Centre; it was replaced in 1963 with the arch I recall, the jawbone of a fin whale caught by Norwegian Thor Dahl off Antarctica. I'm curious to know where the 1963 arch now is.

Tide Tables

Today I have managed to fulfil an ambition I've held for several years. It wasn't a majorly important one - in fact I suspect it may be quite sad, as ambitions go - but I don't care. I am very happy to inform the world that I am now the proud owner of a local Tide Table.

Ever since I heard of the existence of this majestic document, detailing predictions of the times of high tide throughout the year, I have longed to be one of the privileged few to be able to consult its pages. Casual beach walks would be transformed; no longer a mere tourist, I would be able to predict the best moment at which to swim; to choose the ideal place for a sandcastle so that it would be just ready to defend when the waters began to surge around it; to say, with an informed air, "Well, the tide is going out, so it doesn't matter where we put our deckchairs." [1]

I jest. But truly, it is an interesting document to me, probably because I don't understand tides at all, and find them quite fascinating. Of course the ambition to own a tide chart was probably in reality an ambition to have a legitimate reason to own one - and I consider living three minutes' walk from the sea to be quite legitimate [2]. Should I wish to view the next high tide I must venture out at 4.50 in the morning; my subsequent opportunity would be at 5.23 tomorrow afternoon. I was surprised, actually, how quickly the time of high tide changes. There seems to be a difference of 40 to 50 minutes between high tide one afternoon and the next; for no particular reason I used to imagine that the difference would be much smaller. But I learn from the BBC's Tide FAQ page (!) that high tides occur about every 12 hours 25 minutes. I am also excited [3] to discover that the highest spring tides [4] occur close to the equinoxes. The autumnal equinox is about to occur, and indeed I note from my copy of the local Tide Tables (tee hee!) that Sunday morning's tide is predicted to be a particularly high one.

I am, however, unlikely to be getting up at 5.30 in the morning for the purpose of viewing the spectacle.

[1] Sentence for illustrative purposes only - I don't think I've ever actually taken a deckchair to the beach.

[2] Not to mention rather exciting.

[3] Mildly excited.

[4] That's 'spring' as in 'bounce', by the way, referring to the highest tide in a lunar month; its antithesis, the neap tide, is worth mentioning simply because it has a great name.

Cake No. 1

Cake plays a significant part in my plans for the coming year. Might sound silly, but I think cake is a jolly good way to build community - it's much easier to talk to somebody if you have something to offer them. And it might be a bit of an old-fashioned-housewife sort of attitude, but I really do think that giving someone delicious home made food is a good way of showing them you care. However, despite my good intentions, the food I make isn't always delicious, so I thought I'd better break my new kitchen in slowly with a bit of practice. Cooking with electric hobs takes a while to get used to (Tuesday's noodles would have been ready a lot sooner if I'd remembered to turn that switch on the wall to 'on'...) and I'm already thinking it would be nice to have more than a metre of worktop, but really I can't complain. There's a fridge, freezer, grill, oven, hobs, sink and loads of cupboard space, and thanks to the kitchen-lounge arrangement there's even space for people to hang around while I cook [1].

I am sampling a (small) second slice of Cake No. 1 as I type [2]. It's actually quite delicious, which came as something of a surprise, because I thought I was making a complete mess of the weight conversions. It's from a Canadian recipe book [3] so everything is measured in cups, but I never quite liked the idea of measuring butter by squishing it into a mug, so I used this handy conversion site and it came out fine. I love the icing - you make it by melting up some jam and chocolate with a little milk, and it comes out yummy and sticky.

Anyway, it's quite a large cake, so there should be plenty left on Saturday to offer as a reward to any of my brothers who might feel like coming along with Mum to help carry the rest of my boxes up the stairs...

On the whole I would deem Cake No. 1 a success. May it be the first of many!

[1] All I need is some people... but, as I've mentioned, that's why I'm baking cake!

[2] For the peace of mind of Claire and Matthew, I would just like to state that before I had any cake I ate all of my first course, which included salad.

[3] Moosewood Restaurant New Classics, very kindly purchased for my by my Auntie Ann when I visited her in Vancouver in 2002.

Exploring Scarborough

I'm exhausted! I've spent the afternoon roaming the streets of Scarborough, discovering the exciting attractions it holds in store for myself and my potential visitors. Firstly, I should note that the number of pick 'n' mix purveyors I've discovered has gone up to five, one of which is a genuine scoop and weigh shop! Why do you only ever see those at the seaside? Chip shops are too numerous for me to count, and Scarborough seems to have almost as many churches as Cambridge.

In fact I'm quite baffled which church to attend. I've been praying about it quite a bit, because I've decided I don't really want to go "church shopping" - that is to say, attending services at several churches and choosing one on the basis of what I believe will best serve my own needs. I've been thinking a lot about community lately, and I reckon it's rather more important to be involved in a very local church that serves the area I live in. I want my walk with God to be about how I can do stuff for him and focus on others instead of myself. But here's where it gets paradoxical, because in seeking the best church environment in which to serve and worship, I find myself once again "church shopping"!

Going with the community thing, though, I've decided to attend Ebenezer Baptist Church this Sunday. I had seen from the website that they appear to be quite interested in community involvement. Then today I was wandering around looking for the castle, and suddenly felt like it would be a good idea to walk down a particular street, even though it apparently led into a residential area. A couple of minutes later I glimpsed a church-like building. Although I vaguely wondered if it was Ebenezer (it looked sort of baptisty, somehow...), I was astonished when I got there to discover that it actually was! Not only that, but there was someone there - one of the elders, putting a box of books into a car. We had a nice chat. Maybe it was just coincidence, but the combination of finding the place by getting lost and making my second acquaintance in Scarborough (the first was a homeless lady who likes egg sandwiches) gave me that Holy Spirit sort of feeling.

I then had a gleeful gallivant around Peasholm Park, saw the miniature railway, and watched waves crashing into the sea wall and coming up onto the pavement along Royal Albert Drive. Ascending to the castle via a playground I had espied halfway up the hill, I met a boy who laughed with me at my futile attempts to shimmy up the climbing post (this was a good playground!) and did his best to show me how it was supposed to work. I had a good look around the castle itself, reminiscing about childhood visits (I'm sure I was drilled as a Roman Soldier there on one occasion) and delighting in the fact that I could see the bottom of my street from its battlements.

51 hours in, I'm loving being a resident of Scarborough!

Morning View

It's a bit of a wonky photo (taken on a phone), but I wanted to show a glimpse of the glorious beauty of the view down towards Flamborough Head from the beach at the end of the road. It doesn't always look the same, but it seems to always look beautiful. This morning the mist came in a little, but there was sunshine behind the clouds. The sea was full of people surfing!

Living on my own

I'm quite excited about my new flat. The location is one of my favourite things about it. Not only is it ideally situated for gallivanting (only five minutes from the beach) and for visitors (five minutes the other way to the station), but town (with a fine range of shops including three separate purveyors of pick and mix!) is also very nearby.

I'm enjoying being inside the flat too. Its position on the second floor of a building set back from the road up a fairly steep incline affords a delightful sensation of high-up-ness and the chance to look out of beautiful large sash windows down to the street below. The huge windows also let in a lot of sunlight (fortunate perhaps, as my electricity is on a pound-coin-operated meter!) and make me all nostalgic about the house I grew up in.

It's sort of strange not to have housemates. I'm very much enjoying being able to arrange things exactly as I like and to do the washing up just when I want, and it's nice to know that I definitely won't be getting in anybody's way if I decide to stay up all night reading in the living room [1] or get up to make breakfast at 6am [2]. I have to confess, though, that I do get lonely quite easily, and I'm already trying to work out how I can be hospitable with this exciting space I've got. Initial attempts to make friends with my next door neighbour didn't go brilliantly (there was no answer when I knocked on the door), but I have a hope and a faith that God will lead me into friendship and community during my time here. Please pray that he leads me to the right people!

[1] This is quite likely.

[2] This is considerably less likely. At least, it is until my placements begin...