Today is the Feast of the Nativity of St John the Baptist. (We only celebrate three birthdays in the church calendar – John the B, his cousin Jesus and Mary, Mother of Our Lord and Aunty of John the B).
I’ve been on retreat for the last week – something I last did 2 years ago. It has been very good too, looking at wounded healers – Henri Nouwen, Brother Roger, Mychal Judge and John O’Donohoe.
The town that I’ve been staying in goes rather large on celebrating the Eve of the Feast of St John, so we got a firework display just before midnight, a big fire by the sea and the local population all turning up to dip their feet into the water at midnight.
Anyway, here are a few firework photographs. It was a great retreat week and this was a rather spectacular conclusion.
4 responses to “The Privatization of Public Space and the Commonwealth Games”
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We were there yesterday as well – you should use Swarm and I might have known! But we left after the first gate for the same reasons as you’re complaining here – that feeling of being in school, or a prison, perhaps. Not a good move, Glasgow!
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> More troubling to me is that people on the Green were apparently being told to cover up YES badges indicating their support for Scottish Independence.
What about people with NO badges? Or was no-one wearing one?!
Seriously, a good post and I agree with it.
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I was not only frisked each way walking from Douglas St to “The Hub” (back of the Science Centre) but, on the way back when I was actually going to stop in the BBC’s carnival to buy some (in the end, over-priced and under-nice) lunch, the security weasel suggested that I might like to opt out of walking through a public right of way and go some 500m elsewhere so I wasn’t an inconvenience to her and her colleagues.
A. She wasn’t a volunteer.
B. The restriction of individual liberty is the first and most desired recourse of petty British officialdom.
C. Unlike petty French officialdom, whose first and most desires recourse is Madam Guillotine. -
After a PR blunder involving a local Guru of ethnic minority (technically the majority) Herod was anxious to be seen to be benevolent. “5K” had a historical precedent; the concept was simple, marketable and had obvious corporate tie-ins with opportunities for merchandising. The Vizier sourced another Guru, a cousin of the dead one but with better ratings and demographics (and a lot more camera-friendly). Generic ads (CARING/ SHARING/ WEALTH CREATION) went viral on social media, the venue was booked and tickets (£15) sold online.
Jesus proved difficult from the start. He wanted it free and couldn’t see the need to fence the Table. He couldn’t even see the need for the Table. “Okay” said the Vizier (whose eyes kept glazing over as Security patched in on his Link-Up) “we love you, we love the robes and sandals, we love the concept – yeah? Let’s just keep the synergy flowing and focus on half-full, blue skies – sorry – Mike? Yeah PR here, how’s that bulldozing going? Yeah? Flat. And can you schmooze the protesters off-camera? Yeah. We’ll need the whole space for carparking. Sorry – so, Jesus, right? Cool. Just some Health & Safety details to go over:
• Bread ‘n Fishes shrinkwrapped 5K pax must remain in the corporate cooler till distribution by authorised personnel only – all in Hi Viz.
• No healing or blessing, it’s just too big a crowd and we don’t want a crush at the barriers (also healing kinda spins our plucky human interest stories outta line).
Your slot is 3 mins max, Jesus, we’ve drafted your mission statement, here. Any vocab issues? We want the tone local, down with the Palestinian people, not too obviously Roman. Let’s just go over it:
1. Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s (we don’t do God)
2. Yes you can! (can you avoid the whole structural poverty rant? it comes across as patronising and we want to emphasise equal opportunity)
3. The parable of the talents (just as it is)
Cool.”
Everything went smoothly on the day. The whole area had been cleared of undesirables and Herod’s helicopters, horseguards and hounds kept the peace in the huge crowd packed between the steel barriers, happily clutching their tokens for Bread ‘n Fishes; tasteful woven willow miniature food baskets (blessed ones £5 extra) and leaflets for voluntourism. Alternating muzak and plucky soundbites on the massive LED screens kept the crowd amused while they waited for the main act.
Which never came. Jesus had slipped through the crowds and walked away.
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