My fellow tutors; Spotify; Agatha Christie; the Cloth
Today my fellow IUSB tutors were whining about their classmates. Fortunately, Ana & David had gifted Spotify to me, and I’d brought earbuds. Soon I was enjoying sweet respite:
“I was just thinking about that very book!” I said, removing one earbud. “Just now, while walking to work! What an amazing coincidence!”
“I’m reading my way through Agatha Christie,” she said.
“That book is good, but the sequel is really good!” I said. (The sequel is The Seven Dials Mystery.)
“I like this one,” she replied. “It’s one of her earlier works.”
“She wrote, like, a million books,” put in the other tutor. “Have you seen the episode of Doctor Who that has Agatha Christie in it?”
The tutor who was reading Chimneys responded approvingly. Their conversation was thus rekindled. I put my earbud back in. I blamed myself for this turn of events.
“She wrote all her books upon a typewriter,” said the tutor who wasn’t reading Chimneys. (That was the final tidbit that reached me.)
As I again listened to “Bad to the Bone,” my thoughts returned to the possibility of becoming a chaplain. The other day I was on a university website, looking at faculty and staff vacancies, and one of them was for University Chaplain. It struck me that, as an educated, faith-filled person, I could meet most of the qualifications for the job. (I’d just need to get a Master of Divinity degree first.) Another Internet search revealed that there is quite a demand for chaplains.
I recalled that one of my own cousins had been thinking of becoming a chaplain. I, personally, had never much considered taking up the Cloth, but in these hard times, one must be willing to do all sorts of things.
A while ago, I said to Karin, “What if I were to become a minister?” (I’d been reading Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope.)
“No!” she said. She didn’t relish the prospect of becoming a minister’s wife.
“What if,” I said, “I did it as a joint venture with another minister who has a wife? She could do your duties. And the other minister and I could take turns at the pulpit – one week, he’d preach the Sermon, and the next, I’d preach the Refutation.”
Karin didn’t think much of this plan, either.
On the day I was born,Then one of the tutors picked up The Secret of Chimneys and made as if to read it. I almost jumped out of my chair. Should I say something? Probably not.
The nurses all gathered ’round,
And they gazed in wide wonder
At the joy they had found.
The head nurse spoke up,
Said, “Leave this one alone!”
She could tell right away
That I was bad to the bone.
“I was just thinking about that very book!” I said, removing one earbud. “Just now, while walking to work! What an amazing coincidence!”
“I’m reading my way through Agatha Christie,” she said.
“That book is good, but the sequel is really good!” I said. (The sequel is The Seven Dials Mystery.)
“I like this one,” she replied. “It’s one of her earlier works.”
“She wrote, like, a million books,” put in the other tutor. “Have you seen the episode of Doctor Who that has Agatha Christie in it?”
The tutor who was reading Chimneys responded approvingly. Their conversation was thus rekindled. I put my earbud back in. I blamed myself for this turn of events.
“She wrote all her books upon a typewriter,” said the tutor who wasn’t reading Chimneys. (That was the final tidbit that reached me.)
As I again listened to “Bad to the Bone,” my thoughts returned to the possibility of becoming a chaplain. The other day I was on a university website, looking at faculty and staff vacancies, and one of them was for University Chaplain. It struck me that, as an educated, faith-filled person, I could meet most of the qualifications for the job. (I’d just need to get a Master of Divinity degree first.) Another Internet search revealed that there is quite a demand for chaplains.
I recalled that one of my own cousins had been thinking of becoming a chaplain. I, personally, had never much considered taking up the Cloth, but in these hard times, one must be willing to do all sorts of things.
A while ago, I said to Karin, “What if I were to become a minister?” (I’d been reading Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope.)
“No!” she said. She didn’t relish the prospect of becoming a minister’s wife.
“What if,” I said, “I did it as a joint venture with another minister who has a wife? She could do your duties. And the other minister and I could take turns at the pulpit – one week, he’d preach the Sermon, and the next, I’d preach the Refutation.”
Karin didn’t think much of this plan, either.