What is in Kelvin's Head?

Vile, vile, vile

18/08/2012

Oh, vile was the journey home from Edinburgh last night.

Every now and then there is hand wringing about how few the number of people are who make the trip over from Glasgow (city of light and beauty) to Edinburgh (town of dark pleasures and dug-up roads) for arts events in the Edinburgh festival. Indeed, this year, they’ve installed a useful ticket booth for the Fringe in Queen Street station, pour encourager les autres.

That’s a good idea in itself, but access to tickets isn’t the primary reason that people don’t make the journey.

I can understand why they might want to encourage more people. After all, I’ve been at two of the top notch events in the official festival in the last week and on each occasion there have been many empty seats all around me. (Funny, isn’t it that empty seats at the Olympics are a national scandal whilst empty seats at the world’s premier arts festival cause no headlines.)

[In passing, I would also note with a slight grump that the Festival is now refusing to give a companion’s ticket to reviewers these days despite having all those empty seats to fill].

A big part of the reason for people not wanting to go to Edinburgh at night from the land of plenteousness in the West is that the journey can be just so vile.

You don’t want to drive to Edinburgh because in Edinburgh you can neither park nor drive. All roads in the centre are likely to be dug up or congested due to the long-running tram debacle which would be better described as a piece of performance art than a transport policy.

And the late night trains from Edinburgh are just so horrible.

Last Saturday night there was terrible overcrowding on the trains. They know that the Edinburgh festival is on its way presumably every year. And though there is the odd extra train very late at night, the capacity at 1030 pm just isn’t good enough. Corridors are full of people and toilets are full of…. well, never mind what they are full of.

Last night I thought I got lucky by getting a seat in the front of the train. However, that feeling of pleasure and delight was soon dashed from the castle ramparts above Waverley station as Glasgow’s generic, belligerent, loud, smelly, objectionable drunk decided to sit at my table. After announcing to one and all quite how p….drunk he was, he then proceeded to keep up a commentary on everyone else in the carriage. Young women were lampooned for being too fat for him, too thin for him or wearing the wrong clothes. Every man was a threat that made him nervous and tetchy. Anyone with a briefcase was subject to questioning about what they did and whether they had any money in the case.

Dozens of people had a miserable end to whatever kind of evening that they had had.

I chose the line of least resistance and feigned sleep. However, closing your eyes to such bad behaviour is hardly any easier than keeping vigilant watch.

Scotrail supposedly have a no alcohol and no drunks policy on late-night trains. If they are going to come anywhere near enforcing it then they need some staff on the trains. Last night there was no sign of a guard, conductor, ticket-wallah or whatever the whole vile journey.

Quite ghastly and bound to make one think twice about making the journey again.

drunk, Edinburgh Festival, Glasgow

23 responses to “What if this is the end of the Eucharist?”

Thomas Scott

06/05/2020

Just noticing here that DGD (of happy memory) seems to have left out of his catalogue of joyous, sad, perilous, and solemn occasions any instance of celebrating during a plague or pestilence. I’m not worried about the mass. The eucharist need not be celebrated as though it were a car battery, as if not offering it now would somehow allow the power to run down. It is not at risk, we are, which I think is your point. The questions asked are worth asking, of course.

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Mo Nicholson

06/05/2020

Mo Nicholson. This is an intriguing discussion and what I would like to add to it is the observation that I have had to learn the hard way that participation in the Eucharist being made impossible in no way diminishes an individual’s ability to worship God or be in fellowship with other believers. I am barred from receiving Holy Communion in the Catholic church because allergies make this impossible for me. The pain induced by this has little to do with feeling separation from God, in fact nothing at all as I do not feel that. It comes from feeling excluded from the community, different sections if which regard it as desirable or tolerable that a member of the community should be excluded in this way. This experience has made me understand as never before that if we place prime value on liturgical celebrations, ir indeed anything else, above charity, compassion, welcome and inclusivity, in other words love, then we have become the sounding gong which St Paul warned against. If we truly believe that God is love, as I do, then it is obvious that it is love for one another which makes us true children of God our Father, and in light of this we could begin to look at these present challenging circumstances as simply an opportunity to love more, to reach out to one another in whatever way possible in the knowledge that this is what actually matters and always did. Only perhaps we were tempted to almost make a fetish of our rituals, sacraments and so on. And perhaps this can show us a better way more adapted to the world we are supposed to serve.

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Lynsay Downs

06/05/2020

You and your conversation with Dave Roberts prompted me to write this. Does it resonate for you?

https://astonishing.community/2020/05/06/conversations-in-coronatide/

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1. Kelvin
  
  06/05/2020
  
  Thanks Lynsay – yes, it does resonate with me very much.
  
  I’ve shared it on facebook. I think it is really helpful.
  
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Fr Keith

06/05/2020

Thanks again for such a thoughtful piece. With the Eucharist central to much of, at least Anglican/Episcopalian, worship in recent generations, we perhaps forget that the Church in these islands was, between the Reformation and the liturgical revivals of the 19th and 20th centuries, sustained by Mattins and Evensong as the regular diet of worship on Sundays. I’m not advocating a return to such times, but there is, as you suggest, work to be done on non-Eucharistic worship (though not defining it as a negative). Thanks again.

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Fenland Boy

07/05/2020

For the record, I’m not in favour of lay presidency at the Eucharist. I believe, for better or worse, in an ordered church.

Why are you concerned about lay Presidency?

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Chuck

08/05/2020

May I say respectfully, lighten up. Many Anglicans/Episcopalians lived on the edges of civilization in the nascent U.S. and various elements of the British Empire. Priests to celebrate the Holy Eucharist and to baptize were seldom seen, at most twice a year in many areas. (Bishops, only every several years.) The Church carried on in this manner decade after decade. If circumstances require, the Church will carry on again despite our profound sense of loss.

I should add, to those who grew up under threat or reality of war, persecution, oppression, famine, other disease, etc, the present difficulty is not unfamiliar in many respects.

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Miriam MacCarthy

08/05/2020

Thank you! It is wonderful to read these serious, personal thoughts about the Eucharist. My feeling is that it has become celebrated to the point of boredom. Church, and what we do in it, is in danger of becoming simply a habit. It could just as well be crackerjack for a fast-asleep congregation. My heresy is that the direction Jesus gave is to “do this in remembrance of me”, and that means everything we eat at any time, whether alone or with others, in thanksgiving. If that is seriously done, it has vastly more meaning. It really gets ones attention and requires preparation. Would not become popular or usual, I predict!

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