Confessions of a tardy blogger

One of these days I will really get the hang of this blog thing. Funny thing is I used to keep a diary until I went to uni when I was worried that somebody would raid my room on campus and broadcast which girl I had a crush on. It's now three months since my last entry.
My heartfelt thanks to Fr Tim Finigan for his kind remarks. I still miss my grandad but that's grief I suppose.
There have been bright spots since then. Blackpool FC got promted to the Championship after an amazing 10 game winning streak. I am still slightly in shock by this achievement as it is nearly 30 years since we made that league. I started thinking of all the things we Pool fans suffered - the re-election trauma of the mid 80s, Sam Ellis's up and under football, the numpties like Megson and Worthington who took the helm. the respite of the superb football offered by Steve McMahon's men or the bizarre season of 96 with our third place, Sam Alllardyce's short tenure, the Oyston incarceration and the dodgy play oiff defeat with Bradford. Whatever happens next season it is time to savour better teams at Bloomers and more big games.
Once again I am moved to write by the sounds of the Catholic Church machine gunning itself in the foot. My parents tell me of the wholesale church closures planned by Lancaster Diocese. What can you say? The logic seems flawed to say the least the bishops syas his doucment is not really about closing churches buyt is about preparing for a bright future. Yeah right? Congregations are falling , the number of priests is dropping so we shut the churches. However if this logic is followed further we will create a spiral of decline because unless we stem the this drop in numbers we will need even less churches by the reasonin g of the bishop and his advisers. When the Son of Man returns will he find any faith in Preston, Blackpool, Carlisle, Kendal, Lancaster etc. Have Mercy On Us Oh Lord

Apologies

I knew I spoke too soon about entering the blogsphere, the worst bronchitis since my childhood knocked me back big time followed by the death of my beloved grandfather at the ripe old age of 100. If I hear any more comments on the lines of "he's gone to a better place and he had a good innings" I will scream. that may well be the case but it does not stem the pain of loss. Hence I had a very tough Lent and breathed a huge sigh of relief on Easter Sunday.
As a result I have found it hard to pen anything. My grief has been compounded by a further bereavement. The Norbertine Canons have voted to abandon the splendid basilica of Corpus Christi in Miles Platting, Manchester. As ever when the Catholic Church decides on yet another ignominious retreat the announcement has been dressed up with sophistry. The amount of spin used would make New Labour blush. Call me simplistic but I hate to see the light of Christ snuffed out in an area that needs his Real Presence in the tabernacle. I find it strange that priests of God can use the same kind of reasoning as multi nationals shutting a factory when they decided to liquidate a church. Where is their faith? Surely the same God of great miracles can work now if we just trust and believe. So these priests with their nice life can just up sticks leaving the elderly, sick, disabled and the poor without a place of solace where they can rest in the Lord's presence. Have Mercy on us Oh Lord! Have mercy!

Hello brave new world

Never realised it was so easy to join the blogsphere.
Hello everybody now this born again technophobe has sussed out how to start there's no stepping me.
Many thanks to Joanna Bogle's article in this week's Catholic Herald for getting me off my cyber backside to joing the ranks of the bloggers.
Just in case you are wondering Tony Abbot is not my real name but is inspired by the desert Father St Antony the Abbot.
If I find a really good link I will post one. Suffice to say he lived as a hermit in the desert and prayed a lot about the state of his world.
I can't pretend to match him but at least there's an inspiration. I too live alone but in an urban desert - wild jackels don't roam near my cave. Instead it's the local hoodies ready to nick your car at the drop of a shoulder. My neighbourhood is a mixture of students, pensioners, families and some residents who wouldn't be out of place in Shameless. Our world is in desperate need of those who will pray for it - ultimately it's the only thing that matters. Even if you have never tried it before just ask God to show ou that He is real (sorry feminists - this is God the Father wwe're talking about).
I'm getting a bit sleepy plus I'm expecting a mate to phone any minute so I'll sign off. See yoh soon.