It's true that a watched pot never boils. At an average rate of 0.44mm per day it's going to be at least six months before my hair is this long.

Right now it's hard to tell what my new style will be, but I'm hoping for an afro like Dave.

Spring seems to be here. I've been finding myself overdressed as I venture out of our apartment building, which is such a nice feeling.

Mark was here for the weekend, which was a lot of fun. When people asked us what we had been up to the main thing we could think of was that we'd been eating a lot.

Yesterday I was getting really frustrated with one section of PHP code that I just couldn't get to the bottom of. So I turned off the computer, enjoyed a relaxing evening, then came back to it this morning and figured it out within 1 hour.

My Mum and Dad are visiting the week before Easter, which should be a lot of fun, especially with the weather apparently improving.

I just committed falafel
While the joy of falafel really can't be confined to just one day, for me it seems to be becoming a Sunday thing.

Levelling the playing field?
I was interested to read this morning that Isaac Hayes has quit Southpark because of it's insensitivity to "personal spiritual beliefs." It's interesting that he should make this comment now after working on the show, which consistently parodies world religions, since 1997.

The move was taken in response to an episode which openly mocked the Church of Scientology, to which Hayes belongs.

One thing that struck me in the midst of this debate, which seems to echo in some way the Danish Muhammad Incident, is that there may be a certain levelling going on. No longer is it merely the "religion of Christianity" that is ok to mock, but any religion. Though I'd be careful about criticising the religion of western liberalism (you know, the one that says that I (i.e. the individual) is God) because it has so many members and certainly the most powerful weapons at its disposal.

BTW. If you're really into sci-fi, believe that anything goes, and looking for a religion then I'd certainly recommend Scientology and it's rather fruity doctrines.

Read more on the Southpark story here...

Now I know for sure that I'm not going to volunteer for medical testing, however lucratively it may pay. This week I've been pretty homesick - missing friends, family, former communities of faith, momentum and the Toucan Club. Last night's housegroup was such a blessing - I'm very encouraged to have such a good group of friends who are there for me even when I'm less than cheerful.

It's been great learning more about Flash and catching up with the episodes of Lost that I've missed since being here.

Tonight we head to Johan's Church, where (apparently) the husband of Cardigan Nina Persson is showing a multimedia installation.

Har det bra!

Update: we didn't make it to the art installation but instead decided to bake sugar cake.

The style of my last post reminded me of a discovery I made a few years ago while looking through some old school books. I found one of my first ever pieces of written work. It was an answer to the question "what music do you like?" and began something like this...

I like Cliff Richards because his music is fast and sometimes his music is slow.

There were more spelling mistakes, but the thing that caught my attention was the innocence of my musical appreciation. I didn't have many grammatical tools, didn't have a vocabulary with which to express what I heard, and (clearly) didn't have a well developed musical palette. None the less, each new musical discovery had a freshness about it. Whether it was fast or slow, loud or quiet, it was an adventure.

Disclaimer: this quote was written at the age of 4 or 5. The responsibility for my musical listening at that age was not my own and can therefore not be held against me. Pretty please?

Yesterday I shaved my head. I just woke up knowing I had to. Earlier, I was on the phone with my Mum and she asked me "have you cut your hair?" and I told her I had shaved it off. She was sad. I miss her. I miss my hair too.

I've had Chris here since Tuesday. It's been a lot of fun hanging out, showing him Malmö, reminiscing on old times and catching up with recent events. My highlights so far (he doesn't leave til tomorrow, so there's plenty of time for more!) include:
A game of bike-tag that ended painfully on our way home from Elin's place (I now have a nice big scab on my knee).
SKA night at Metro. Dancing with Chris and Emma. Encouraging people to take the only clear route from the toilet to their seats (behind the bar) and watching them get caught (props to Jamez the Priest and Petter for their use of cunning. Points are awarded for avoidance of bar steward wrath and stylish navigation of the route in question).
Chris being told that his accent sounds like Anastasia!

Happy Saint David's Day!

Chris flies into Malmö this evening, which is very exciting. Out of all my friends I've probably known him the longest (at least 10 years), and, while we don't see each other all that often anymore, when we get together it feels like we just pick up where we left off.

I'm trying to get as much work done before he arrives as possible...

A simple question (part 2)
One thing that I know is that we all unexpectantly crave authenticity. We're so accustomed to the glossy sales pitch which, on closer inspection, is full of holes. We know marketing strategies, we know consumerism and we know that we can't trust people. But, if we're brave enough to admit it, we hope that authenticity exists and that if we look hard enough we might find it.

Then those of us who endeavour to follow Jesus look around and notice that people expect us to be judgemental, closed minded, hypocritical, out of touch. Sure, those same people, when looking at Jesus would say they see an authenticity and a hope that they wish were true, but those who claim to represent him don't echo the stories of that wonderful man.

We gather, we pray, we worship. We worry about being misunderstood. We worry about judging and try to figure out how not to do it. Our groups, whether we like it or not, need leading. The leaders need leading. We say we want to put character before gifting, that we don't choose someone just because they are good at something, but because their first goal is following Jesus and they are steadily ordering their lives around his.

Deep down we trust that we can be different, we can be authentic and we can follow Jesus. Our communities are open, they say "come as you are," just as Jesus did. We long that our lives would begin to resemble that of Christ and hope that our faith is something beyond the cerebral.

But how do we juggle the tension that exists between desiring an authentic spirituality and knowing that along the way we will fall short of our own aspirations? How do we model this authentic spirituality to those around us? How do we handle our responsibility as leaders of leaders to appoint people whose lives reflect Jesus but with an awareness that even we fall short?

How do we shape an ethics that is non-judgemental, but which affirms the possibility of change and expects it?

Nice...
(via tremble)

A simple question (part 1)
I've been pondering a fairly interesting question that, I think, really deserves some focus of theological energies. It involves the tension that exists between being a people 'in the world, but not of it,' along with concepts like inclusivity and exclusivity.

I'm part of a community of faith. We are a people who have decided that we want to follow Jesus. We are a people for whom the call to be apprentices comes before all the other things that pull on our lives. At least that's the target we've got our sights on. In choosing to follow Jesus I choose to no longer follow myself.

We have all been raised by a culture which screams individualism. A culture whose only true God is ones self. My only framework for life involves following myself. My worldview is that of seeing me as the centre of the cosmos. The world does revolve around me. I can form a set of beliefs which are most convenient to me. I can have a McDonald's (or Subway) brand of spirituality, where I take what I like and leave behind what I don't. God is only real if he affirms the infantile urges that I've been trained to succumb to.

Then I'm invited into a way of life which is all about community. A way of life which states that the best leaders are the best servants. I'm struck by how different this is, how much love is on offer and how my imagination is captured by this life beyond my own. But I've been taught that it's only hypocrites who claim to follow higher values. Humans cannot change, cannot be anything other than selfish, not deep down...

Sorry, no life-enhancing ponderings to post yet, but I've been listening to some music that takes me back something like 8 years - Pantera - such great music. I really wish this hadn't happened.

How tall is Christopher?

I received a challenge from a good friend of mine earlier in relation to this blog:

x says: (3:07:09 pm)
in your blog 1 or 2 years ago, you were regularly posting your thoughts and ponderings over the theology that struck you both from your reading and from your everyday life.

x says: (3:07:34 pm)
We haven't been seeing a lot of that lately ??

Jonathan Morgan says: (3:08:07 pm)
true

x says: (3:08:15 pm)
As a former Starbucks barista, you know about making a cappuccino...it does need some substantial espresso underneath the chocolate and froth!

Jonathan Morgan says:?(3:09:27 pm)
I think I've become much more self conscious about what I publish though

x says:?(3:10:45 pm)
i like reading your swedish cultural thoughts but i even more like your pointers on the kingdom of God.

I think I might just take x's advice.

...and they lay in pieces on the kitchen floor.
Right now it seems I'm learning not simply how to kill my darlings, but how to completely annihilate them. It's painful but I'm sure it's good for the soul. Visit my new design for lookscankill.

Hopefully that's sorted out the colour issue...

I'm reading Lullaby, another interesting Chuck Palahniuk book. I like the way he uses layers of repeating themes in his story telling. He uses this repetition to slowly unpack the narrative while always knowing that he can return the reader to an earlier concept using just a few well constructed words. Next up is 31 Songs by Nick Hornby...

Tomorrow we're off to the Red Rooms to hear some of Niklas' songs, which should be fun.

I think my post from yesterday may have given the wrong impression. In the absence of something more concrete to write about I decided to indulge a passing thought I had when looking out of the window. I wasn't actually feeling all that melancholic...

Today the sun is back and has joined forces with last night's rain to clear much of the snow from roads and footpaths. In writing about the weather this much I'm making no progress in dismissing stereotypes about Brits.

Well here's a new skin and this time I'm experimenting with a larger typeface...I'm not sure if it makes this particular font (Geneva) more readable - let me know what you think. It seems to look consistent in most browsers, inc. Internet Explorer for Windows, though IE for Mac, as usual, is a real disappointment...
Update: Zoe tells me the colour of the banner appears brown, rather than crimson, on the PC - is this the case?

It's another Monday morning and from the window of our apartment I watch the snow fall in thick, fluffy clouds. People make their way to work with great attention to their every step. In the summer you can stroll, look around, take in the sights. When it's snowing your every step bears potential for a slip, a wet foot, general discomfort. The snow brings with it the curse of gloomy introversion.

So we're finally online in the apartment, which means the library is no longer my second place. Today I discovered a third place, called Element, in walking distance of home. Christopher took me to a flea market, which was an interesting experience... not sure I'll be going back there in a hurry.

culture shock
I'm sat in the library, as usual, and I just spotted a guy outside walk up to the edge of the kerb, pick up a handful of snow, put it in his mouth, then pick up another handful of snow and use it to wash his hands...

Well yesterday was LL Cool J, Common and Funkadelic. Today is At The Drive In and John Coltrane. We've ordered our broadband connection, so a week from now will mark the last day of this wonderful library as my office. If only I had such a good CD collection at home.

Tonight our housegroup has some visitors from Toronto, which should be fun.

I've been listening to a lot of music from the Stadsbibliotek (city library) and have noticed that they have a surprising amount of Welsh music. In the past few days I've found CDs from the likes of Dub War and Gorky's Zygotic Mynci...

No matter what colour, Vans slip-ons really aren't the attire for tackling 5 inch deep snow. Apparently neither are Clarks Wallabies. It's strange moving somewhere with a notably harsher climate and discovering that clothes you once thought warm are seriously inadequate.

The Snow it falls
The streets of Malmö are now covered with a thick blanket of fresh white snow. On the right are some photos I took on my way to the library. I was snow biking, so please forgive the poor compositions.

Strangely enough I'm listening to Bruce Springsteen - Matt would be proud!

It's funny how British art seems more interesting when enjoyed from other lands. I laugh harder at Ali G and Little Britain here than I ever would at home and even enjoy listening to Radiohead and Coldplay more.

There's this one sketch on The Ali G Show where he interviews something like the US Chief of Security and asks him "couldn't you arrange it so that those machines at airports for finding belts and watches and stuff could detect weapons?" (my paraphrase).

Anyhow I saw that episode, laughed, and thought nothing of it. Until Tim arrived. Somehow he made it past security at 3 airports, on his way to Malmö, without anyone noticing that he had a fishing knife in his coat pocket. He didn't realise himself until he arrived in Sweden!

It seems like every day some progress is made towards me being able to remain in Sweden. On Friday afternoon I was told that I am now eligable to receive a temporary residence permit.

Advice for anyone moving to Sweden: start at the tax office and avoid the migration board until they give you a personal number (unless you happen to be moving to Sweden because of a significant other who happens to be Swedish, in which case the door is wide open!)

In Sweden, opening a bank and joining a library are both equally as straight forward. You go in, you present your passport, you tell them your address. Voila, you have opened a bank account. Why is it so hard to open an account in the UK?

Okay, this announcement may be slightly premature, but I'm starting a web design company called Looks Can Kill. My new website can be found at lookscankill.org. If you have any work for me please leave a comment and I will email you.

Ugly black snow.
I think the worst thing about the weather being this cold is that the snow lingers for ever. The last time it snowed in Malmö was sometime around New Years' Day, so this is old snow, and it lost its shiny whiteness many days ago.

For those of you who were wondering, I haven't dropped off the face of the Earth. I've been away from broadband for a while and am re-emerging thanks to some new web design exploits. I'll post some more on this when I get the chance.

New Year was spent 'Snow Biking' with Mark in Malmö harbour, pulling skids and watching the fireworks (amateur and professional). It turns out that Swedes (at least those living here) have a strange fascination with all things fire (candles, firewords, whatever) and for one night the city was transformed into something resembling a war zone.

We're just back from watching the sun go down at Sotherndown. While travelling back and forth they played Madonna's Vogue twice on the radio. This is my last night in Cardiff. Tomorrow I head back to Malmö with Zoe and Mark in tow (or toe?) ready to celebrate the dawn of 2006.

The Switchbacks
This morning I rode a trail that I've ridden many times in the past, but haven't been near for maybe 3 or 4 months. It's known as 'The Switchbacks' because of the hairpin turns, which make it a really fun ride. It starts out steepish and fairly simple, and ends with a fast, near flat, fairly technical (weaving between trees etc.) piece of singletrack.

This morning I noticed that the trail has changed somewhat since my last ride. The loose rocks have gone and been replaced by small red stones, as have other more precarious parts of the trail. This makes it a much faster ride, but also a much safer ride and I'm not sure I like it.

The thing I enjoyed the most was just being outside and out of the city. I know it sounds like a cliché, but too little time in the outdoors makes me feel like a caged animal.

Thanks to John, James, Elinor and Elin I now have a CV in Swedish! Tack så mycket. Also thanks to those who have cared for me in different ways during my first month in Sweden. I've spent some time figuring out the mac keyboard shortcuts so will no longer be spelling Malmö without the dots.

God Jul en och allt (I'm sure you can't directly translate "one and all" like that but what do I know?)

Peace.

This is my third day in the UK. It's nice to be home, seeing friends and family and noticing all the differences between here and Sweden. One of the things I noticed first was that I was looking the wrong way when crossing the road. I've had to remind myself, when walking into a shop, "it's not 'hey' and 'tack,' but 'hi' and thankyou..."

I haven't needed my gloves or hat either...

Yesterday at 7.35am I awoke to the sound of words I didn't recognise and voices I did as Emma and Sofia sang me the Swedish equivalent of 'Happy Birthday' and entered the room with an icecream cake and candles. I blew out the candles and proceeded with my icecream breakfast...

At 7.40am Elinor and Sara showed up, sang, and presented me with manna (well, Ben and Jerry's).

During the day I hung out with Emma, went shopping and got ready for our guests in the evening. We had a great meal - a feta cheese pie, and people started arriving from 8ish. The apartment filled up and we had a lot of fun mingling with some new friends.

Pictures (hopefully) to follow (please: Emma, Pete, anyone else who brought their camera).

All in all a great birthday.

Well the winter here is much milder than I expected. That's not to say it isn't cold, but it's December 17th and I've been able to continue cycling wherever I need to go. I've only had one moment where I would say I was chilled to the bone and that actually had more to do with following someone who was cycling really slow. To top this off I think I've only been caught in rain twice this month and neither occasion was heavy enough to dampen my shoe-covered toes.

Today is the Malmo Vineyard Christmas party and I'll hopefully get to sample some more traditional Swedish Christmas food (if any of it is vegetarian!) I'm constantly blown away by the fact that you can move cities and find a community of like-minded individuals with whom you can share life and faith (not that the two are really that easy to separate!)

On Monday I celebrate my 23rd Birthday, which should be fun. This year I get to celebrate it twice - on Monday with friends in Malmo and then Tuesday when I fly home to my family for Christmas.

Now to make some Greek(ish) couscous salad with one of the bargains of Malmo - 20kr for 1/2Kg of feta cheese (from the Greek delicatessen in Mollevangen).

Tonight we celebrated Lucia at Malmo Stadsbibliotek (city library) with a midnight concert from a small band of choristers. It's so nice to be somewhere where advent festivities aren't completely overshadowed by the impulse to max out the collective credit card.

The last few days I've been full of cold and very aware that the clock is ticking in the run up for Christmas. I went to university with Elinor and printed out some notices offering proof reading for students whose first language is Swedish and are submitting coursework in English. It'll be interesting to see what comes.

These times of being slightly below par are kind of good for reflecting and evaluating progress I guess.

On Wednesday night I attended an interdenominational mass that seems to be run by students of a local theological college. It was the first service I've been to that was held entirely in Swedish (including all songs), and, because of the cold, my head was really not in gear, but it was very relaxed and I enjoyed its simplicity.

Well I'm still alive. Mark C went home on Saturday, so I'm now hanging with mostly Swedes. The Swedish isn't coming along as quickly as I would like, but I am learning, and I'm sure that when I fix myself a routine of practise and study I will improve much faster.

On Friday night Mark, Emma and I were at Crash, an indie night at The Deep. We met up with some of Emma's friends from back home (Varnamo), including Nicholas who goes out with their housemate (Bea). I think Emma found it amusing when Nicholas grabbed me and pulled me into a group of lads who were jumping up and down on the dancefloor singing along with some swedish band that I'd never heard. Not one to let the fact that I can't make out the lyrics hold me back I decided to sing along ("watermelon, watermelon, watermelon...").

I'm feeling very taken care of. God seems to have provided me with a network of supportive and encouraging friends far more quickly than I would ever have expected.

I had Fika at the Glassfabriken (Ice Cream Factory) this afternoon with some of the guys from Malmo Vineyard. We talked about everything from music to feminism to Dostoevsky to foreign languages.

Well Malmo just got a whole lot smaller. Someone has kindly lent me a bike.

I'm currently staying with Elinor and Sara, who were doing training at Toronto Airport Church before beginning their studies at Malmo Uni. It's interesting the people who have showed up in this city in the last few months and who are all trying to figure out what God is up to.

I'm starting to get used to being introduced to people as an "Englishman," despite being Welsh.

Good news - there may be some work on the horizon!

Today is a miserable autumnal Thursday in Malmo - rain and grey skies. I'm pretty tired from the moving around I have been doing - sleeping at one friend's house, then another and hoping for an opportunity for accommodation until the end of December to arise.

I've met some great people this week and in many ways being here is a lot of fun. My challenge right now is getting into "the system." In order to get on a language course I need a residence number, which I get when I have work. Learning Swedish would really improve my chances of overcoming a couple of cultural barriers. One of these barriers is that Swedes are great at English and until you have a good basic grasp of the language it's hard to get them to speak to you in Swedish (more than a simple "hi, how are you?").

This morning I met a guy who has just moved to Malmo from Palestine. He was walking the wrong direction from the Migration office to wherever he was going and presented me a map showing where he was going. The map had a green line showing the roads he should follow to his destination. Looking at the map I noticed that this route was probably the longest. The green line zig-zagged across this particular part of town threatening to turn a 10 minute stroll into a 45 minute tour of South-West Malmo. I was reminded of the directions given me by the lady at the tax office the other day which were equally as indirect. I'm sure there's some kind of conspiracy going on...

Mark and Jon are here, exploring the pigeon-less streets of Malmo. It was nice to hear some news from the UK.

On Friday I went to the tax office where I was told that I need a residence permit number to register, then the migration board where I was told that I need a job to register. I'm heading for the AMS (equivalent of Job Centre) to find out about language courses and work advice, then probably to Espresso House.

This evening I head across to Copenhagen for VOLT - the leadership training at Copenhagen Vineyard.

Last night was my first experience of a housegroup held in Swedish. Fortunately I had Sofia to translate. It was great - we looked at the Vineyard value of worship, we sang around the piano, and then Ola asked if I'd mind if they pray for me. As they prayed they gave words that answered all the niggling fears that I had going on inside my head - it was truly uncanny.

Afterwards we cycled back in crisp minus temperatures (when I got to the bike the seat was frosted over!) and I was filled with the deep sense of peace knowing that, whatever happens, God is in control.

Well I'm here. Interestingly God provided me some comfort on the way, through the medium of people both known and unknown. The first was Clare Samuel, who was on the train from Cardiff to Newport and provided the distraction I needed from the fact I had just said goodbye to Zoe (which was no fun at all).

When I arrived at Birmingham International Airport I went to Starbucks for my final Caramel Macchiato for a while. I sat down on one of their sofas and did some journalling, reading etc. Then I got up to look at the departure screen and my book fell. The lady opposite me picked it up and commented on the fact I had been thumbing through my Bible. Her name is Elizabeth and she's part of a church just outside Copenhagen, so we got to chat about God and what an adventure it it following him. When we arrived in Copenhagen she and her husband Martin helped me find the train for Malmo!

I'm typing this from the library, or Stadsbibliotek, of which I'm now a member. It was one of the missions set by Emma to help me get used to life in the city. On the way I tried out my first bit of cycling on the right side of the road...very interesting.

Leaving on a Jetplane
So tomorrow I get on a plane and set off on a new adventure. I don't really know what the next few weeks or months will bring, but I'm trusting that everything will be okay.

From day to day I hear a lot of music I haven't heard before, but this particular band is really worthy of a blog post. Matisyahu are apparently huge in NYC and are fronted by a guy who is an Orthodox Jew (complete with beard) and refuses to play shows on Fridays. Check out their video King without a Crown.

Last night was Jennie's houseparty. The highlights for me were:
a) Geir somehow getting everyone in the place (with help from Steve) chanting "speech, speech, speech" at Jennie, to her complete surprise. (After all, what is an "English Party" without a speech?)
b) Having the twinge in my neck sorted out by Lorna, one of Jen's Chiropractic friends.
c) Getting to meet a whole bunch of new people.

Apparently this is how you tell if you've been in Sweden too long. I particularly like number 118.

It's been a long old day. I woke up at 5am yesterday. I'm now at the point where I feel really disorientated!

The good news is that it's bed time. Earlier I worked my last shift at Starbucks and in a week I will be in Malmo. This evening I hooked up with some people from work for a little farewell drink. The strange thing was that 3 out of 5 of us were Finnish.

Tomorrow is my Dad's birthday.
Good night.

I'm working my last two shifts at Starbucks today and tomorrow - a close followed by an open. The open shift starts at 6.30am, so my alarm sounds at 5am and by 6 I'm navigating the streets of Cardiff on my bike.

If I had a dime for every time I heard someone undermine the passion of someone who has just started following Jesus with statements like, "isn't it great when you're new to following Jesus..." I'd have a lot of foreign currency. Every time I hear it I feel as though someone is jabbing a knife between my ribs and turning it. My understanding of the life of a follower is it gets better with time - that we should expect that as our relationship deepens and we have more opportunities to see the Kingdom break through that our excitement and expectancy would increase.

Every time I hear it I'm reminded of the parable of the sower in Luke 8:4-8 and Jesus' explaination (here) that the different types of ground represent the responses of different people to the message of the Kingdom. In this particular situation I'm reminded of the thorny ground, which represents "those who hear and accept the message, but all too quickly the message is crowded out by the cares and riches and pleasures of this life. And so they never grow into maturity." That parable wasn't told for those who were cynics, for those who would never believe, but for those who did believe. It serves as a warning to us all - will we let the distractions that are thrown across our path, the troubles of this life, define us and our level of hope, or will we let them act as opportunities for growth (eg)?

One of my favourite cable channels is Turner Classic Movies (TCM). I've been using it to catch up on must-see movies that pre-date me, like House on Haunted Hill and Strangers on a Train. Tonight they're showing Blood Simple by Ethan and Joel Cohen.

While at Paddington Station, on our way back from Sweden, we got coffee from Costa Coffee. I asked for a Caramel Macchiato and received a cup with a couple of shots of espresso and a whole lot of caramel syrup. Yuck. The drink lacked the crucial ingredients of milk and vanilla syrup...

This morning, before work, I booked my ticket to Copenhagen, from where I will catch a train to Malmö and commence the next leg of my journey. Yesterday was great, catching up with friends, receiving prayer and encouraging words. It's really only just dawning on me that living in another country will mean being a long way from many people I hold dearly.

I'm in Bristol this weekend, hanging out with Mark G and friends and currently enjoying free wireless internet at Boston Tea Party. It's nice to visit this city that was my home last year, seeing how things have changed and hearing stories of what God has been up to.

Pedestrian Logic
I've noticed a strange phenomenon while riding back and fore along the Taff Trail. If you're riding along the cycle path and there's a pedestrian walking in the opposite direction, on the opposite side of the path, more often than not that person will change his or her path so they are walking directly towards you.

Yesterday I handed in my notice at McLatte, which means I will finish there on the 9th November, the day before my Dad's 51st birthday. They've been a really good team to work with.

Don't eat Norwegian fika
Gair tells me that fika, the Swedish word for going out for coffee and cake, describes the act of punching someone in Norway.

Confession
During the past few weeks I've had numerous conversations in which I've informed people that I'm "thinking about" moving to Sweden. In truth I should have said "planning to move" rather than "thinking about moving." I've held back a little on announcing this to the world as I needed space to figure it out.

Mark is such a great cook. This afternoon he russled us up a veggie roast dinner with fairtrade Chocolate and Cherry Cheesecake for desert. mmmmmmmm.

The guide book warned us that swedes are reserved and polite but nothing prepared us for the law abiding citizens we were to meet. They wait at the traffic lights until the green man appears (or sounds his 'tack, tack, tack, tack...'- perhaps thanking them for their patience), they don't cycle on pavements (at least not since a recent law on the topic was introduced), and they don't litter. Our theory was that the police there actually enforce those 'minor' laws that the police in the UK don't seem to have time to enforce.

Sweden
Well I’ve finally managed to sit still in front of this little computer for long enough to tell the stories of our trip to Sveringe. It began with a journey on the Megabus, a night in Stansted Airport and a Swedish stamp in my passport (I had to ask for it).

Malmö is lovely. It’s a city in which I felt immediately at home. From the falafel shops on every street to the parks, or the bike-culture that is so much part of the city.

We took day trips to Helsinborg and Halmstad, two towns on the west coast of Sweden and on the Sunday visited Copenhagen Vineyard.

Clubbing in Sweden
There is a new law in Sweden that prohibits smoking in clubs. My first instinct towards this was, “Yes! Finally I can go clubbing and be able to breathe.” Interestingly one of the side effects of the club no longer being filled with smoke is that the body odour of those on the dance floor becomes much more apparent. I hope they figure out how to change that soon…

Falafel
Not only is there a cycling culture in Malmö, there’s also a culture of falafel which has a lot to do with the great ethnic diversity of the place. Falafels, for those of you who don’t know, are deep fried balls of chickpea served in a flat bread wrap with salad and tzatziki or feta cheese. They are delicious and cost just 15kr (£1.10).

Fika
Fika is a word for the act of eating cake and drinking coffee. We did lots of this. Jag gillar att fika.

Liquorice
I love the fact that you can go into any grocery store and get liquorice. My favourite discoveries of this trip are salty liquorice chewing gum and liquorice flavour ice cream. Delicious.

I met Martin yesterday. Martin is the International Director of Starbucks. He is responsible for all Starbucks outside the USA. I decided to ask him about graduate opportunities within Starbucks. Apparently the standard way of progressing is to start as a Barista and to work your way up...

The last 48 or so hours have been some of the weirdest of my life. I ended up going to Sweden last week (more to follow) and flew back on Monday so that I could be at my Grandpa's funeral, which was yesterday. We knew that time was going to be tight, so hired a car so that we could speed up our journey form Stansted to Cardiff. However on arrival at Stansted I was asked for my driving licence and when I could only present the card section of it was told I couldn't have a car. Their insurance demands that they see a full paper and card driving licence.

This left us with one option - a bus to Paddington Station and then a train to Cardiff. Unfortunately the only train to Cardiff was at 5.45am on Tuesday morning, and this was 11.30pm Monday. So we endured one long night at Paddington and returned to Cardiff with very heavy eyelids.

The funeral was at 2pm, but we were getting together with family late morning so I arrived, ate breakfast, showered, donned my suit, and we made our way to Llanelli.

It was a very sad, but wonderful day celebrating the life of a much loved and godly man. It was amazing meeting people whose lives bore testimony to his pastoral care and insight. One of the things that really stood out was how people described him as a gentle, humble man. In a world of hard-nosed selfish ambition this really stands out.

I'm so tired right now that I'm sure I'm not doing justice to what I'm feeling, or balancing the priority of subject matter very well, but please forgive me.

My Grandpa died this morning. We think he was descending the stairs from the room at the back of his house where he used to go and pray. He must have lost his footing on the stairs, fallen and hit his head.

It’s strange talking about him in the past tense. Just a few weeks ago I was with him, sat, metaphorically, at his feet, asking questions about calling and living to the full. Thomas Ronald Morgan was a unique man, genuine, humble and passionately in love with Jesus. He loved people and chose to see the best in them, even when some would consider him naïve to do so. Towards the end of his life, he nursed my Grandma as her Alzheimer’s progressed, modelling the kind of unwavering love that you really don’t see every day.

My Grandpa was both an inspiration and a friend and he will certainly be missed.

When The Roll is Called Up Yonder
When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more,
And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll is called up yonder I’ll be there.

On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise,
And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

Let us labour for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
(James M. Black)

I have a job!
I mentioned in a previous post that my life consisted of interviews and paperwork. Well I've just got a job with Starbucks, which should keep me going while I figure out the questions of, "If not Cardiff, where? And how?"

Many of you will know my (prior) thoughts on Starbucks, so I'm interested to investigate questions of ethical standards and marketing techniques. So far I've been pleasantly surprised...

Today I crossed the River Severn in order to pick up my suit etc from Tom and Nic's house and to catch up with the fair people of Bristol Vineyard. BV are celebrating their 10th anniversary this week and the finale of the week is a Saturday Night Fever theme party - sounds like fun, although I'll be at a wedding that day. The trip was also a chance to meet this year's Form team, who hail from California, Denmark, Norway and Norwich.

At the moment my days consist of interviews and paperwork. It's a routine, if a strange one. As you might have heard, Mark and I are heading to Sweden in early October. It should be a lot of fun catching up with friends (eg., eg. and eg.) and visiting Copenhagen Vineyard.

This morning I went for another contact lens trial. The last time was 3 years ago when the optician didn't allow me to take the lenses away with me because I couldn't put them in or take them out by myself.

This time I managed to put on the lenses, but could not get the things out. I'm going back in a week to give it another go...

Some mornings I wake up and I feel like a child looking at a big, cold, scary world that I'm ill equipped to deal with. My mind is drawn to people and places I've left behind, people I've felt so incredibly close to, people I believed I could do this kingdom work with. Then I wipe the sleep from these childish eyes, clench my teeth, and take a look beyond my self, my fears, the dull aches of distant friends, into the eyes of the one who doesn't leave, the one who calls me 'beloved.'

Ofcom bans Make Poverty History advert for being "too political."

The advert received no complaints from the general public and was essentially banned because it challenged the way our government, and governments of other Western European countries, approach poverty. How crap is that? (Read More)

View the advert here.

I've been listening to two great Icelandic bands recently - Múm and Sigur Rós. Their music is probably best described as enchanting.

This week has been interesting. I've had interviews and I've done some cycle couriering. On Monday Rob and I went to a training day with Bristol Vineyard where we enjoyed spending some time with Eric Sandras as he taught on The Four Stages of Love by Bernard of Clairvaux.

I've been pushing lots of doors when it comes to work and living location. It's been one of those times where I know what I can't do, but am eager to find some doors that I should walk through!

Even Though
Even though I can't see the sun through these clouds
I know it still shines
Even though I can't feel Your love through this pain
I know You're alive

Even though I can't understand
Why this storm still blows, and
Even though I can't hear Your voice
I love Your rain

Even though I can't see the way up ahead
I know that You lead
Even though I can't feel Your presence now
I know I believe

Who can measure Your greatness
Who can count all Your faithfulness
Who can doubt that Your presence
Silences every lie

Yesterday I sampled the delights of Spin and Pilates. Spin is like mountain biking in a low ceiling'd room surrounded by men with hairy backs on exercise bikes. Unfortunately the likeness to mountainbiking is limited to the muscles you use - there is no adrenaline, there are no views, there is no fun.

Pilates, on the other hand, pretty fun and relaxing.

Has anyone seen my Iron Fist?
Somehow I've mislaid one of my t-shirts. It's navy, has a pink square and daubs of white paint on the front and an image of Bruce Lee on the back. It's nice, is made by Iron Fist and can be seen in this photo. If you've seen it lying around please let me know...

For years I've watched them swoop around Cardiff City centre with all the grace and precision of a dancer (and I'm not talking tap). I've admired them from afar and thought: "maybe - one day..." Tomorrow I'm off for an interview/chat at a cycle messenger company in Cardiff.

At the moment I'm enjoying...
Lost - billed as 'survivor with actors.' I anticipated a let down after all the media hype, but have been plesantly surprised. It's actually pretty intriguing. One of my favourite plots (despite being highly contrived) is Jack's growing awareness of his leadership "call" - my favourite quote so far (though paraphrased) comes from Mr Lock:
"You say you're not a leader, but they follow you."

I'm also enjoying Newsfan, the news aggregator that is saving me a lot of browse-time. For those of you who don't know what an aggregator does, you type in the RSS feeds of your friends' websites and within about 4 seconds Newsfan tells you who has posted something new.
Update: I've actually changed to Mozilla's Thunderbird because it turns out Newsfan was just a 15 day demo...

Finally, I'm enjoying learning some more Swedish.

My broadband connection has been down for the last 36ish hours, hence the lack of posting. My Grandad is very ill, so your prayers would be much appreciated. It's his birthday today and he's been rushed into hospital.

fruktstund
Zoë and I are pretty ill, so we've been munching on a lot of fruit in the hopes of speeding up our recovery. My favourites are fresh pinapple, mango, honeydew melon and grapes.

Anarchy vs. Liberalism
I was chatting with a friend from Sweden last week who was telling me about her 'freshers' fortnight' (weeks before uni starts properly where there are lots of parties.) Apparently at her university, during this time, there are rules that place limits on alcohol consumption and freshers are not allowed to kiss. It all stems from an incident 3 years ago where a student was raped.

Initially hearing this was a surprise - particularly with the reputation Sweden has for being ultra-liberal - but on further reflection it makes sense. Liberalism is not anarchy. It's not licence to do whatever you please. Rorty defines a liberal as, "someone who believes the worst thing you can do is harm another human being." Within this definition the rules enforced at this particular campus, while seemingly strict, are actually an outworking of a liberally-minded culture, a culture that puts caring for its members before licensing their untethered freedom.

In the UK such a big deal is never made out of single incidents of rape, but that is probably just a reflection on the draconian inequality of our society.

Check this bit of anti-Mac propaganda (via Ian). It made me chuckle, but not hate my mac.

A couple of things that have gone on in the last few days...

Maintaining with Jurassic 5
Last night we saw J5 at Bristol Academy, the last night of their European Tour. They were great and the sound was set up really well (you could make out their lyrics clearly). Chali 2na has to be one of the greatest rappers out there. Nu-Mark completely rocked, but I was disappointed Cut Chemist didn't show.

Risk
I played Risk on Sunday night with Zoe, Viv, Rob, Chris and Ian, which was a lot of fun and became very heated at times. Fortunately no one was injured.

Dead Man's Shoes
Is a horrible film with a great soundtrack (on Warp Records). It's a British movie in which one man takes revenge on behalf of his brother. I made the mistake of watching it when in a mildly melancholic mood and seriously regretted it by the end.

Last night was Zoë's surprise 21st Birthday party, which I think we have did a pretty good job of concealing over the past few months. We were at Journeys on Upper Clifton Street for eating, drinking, toasting, mingling, all to the backdrop of some great breaks and beats (thanks Dan and Ian). It was great chilling out with friends new and old.

Afterwards a group of us ended up at Moloko in the Cafe Quarter for some Funk ("I believe in miracles baby..."), Breakbeat, Foosball, and Flaming Sambucas. I hooked up with some old friends from (primary!) school and early clubbing days, which was real nice. We danced like there was no tomorrow and hypothesised over why girls spend so much time in the toilet (are they actually having some female-only secret party?)

One of the conversations of the evening revolved around how Dan and I first got to know each other. First there was the family connection (I have a vague recollection of Dan and I scaring his cousin with glow in the dark teeth), but that doesn't explain our present day friendship. I think it boils down to some event where I started chatting to him ("you probably don't remember me but ...[insert said glow in the dark teeth story]...") Somehow we ended up DJing together at houseparties (including the infamous one at Angel's place which, as Dan recalled last night "was like something out of a movie").

Happy Birthday Zoë!

From yesterday's Bread for the Journey:
Every time we make the decision to love someone, we open ourselves to great suffering, because those we love most cause us not only great joy but also great pain. The greatest pain comes from leaving. When the child leaves home, when the husband or wife leaves for a long period of time or for good, when the beloved friend departs to another country or dies...the pain of the leaving can tear us apart.
Still, if we want to avoid the suffering of leaving, we will never experience the joy of loving. And love is stronger than fear, life stronger than death, hope stronger than despair. We have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth taking.
for more click here

It's getting late. Last night Chris beat me at Chess twice. He sent me this picture of Zoë and I to commiserate. Tonight we were out for a family meal to celebrate Zoë's 21st Birthday and my parents' 25th Wedding Anniversary.

My favourite band of the day is !!!, whose name was chosen "because it reflects the excitement shared by the band members, mixed with an intense desire to shake things up" and is allegedly pronounced 'Chk Chk Chk,' or with "any three repeated sounds". Their music is fun, funky, punky and great to shake that bootie to.

I love Skype - being able to keep in touch with people around the world for free (to other broadband users) or minimal charge (to phones).

Liquorice Spotlight
So the discussion on liquorice continues thanks to Tom's last-week-at-work news reading. Who'd have thought that such a seemingly innocent and delicious snack could cause:
- Premature birth
- Chronic fatigue
- Headaches
- "Swelling"
- Muscle failure
- High Blood Pressure
- Loss of sex drive in men?
And it's all apparently thanks to glycyrrhizic acid.
This story - of the woman who OD'd on Pontefract Cake and was treated at Pontefract General Infirmary (the world centre for liquorice related illness?) was definately the most bizarre.

Will I withdraw my claims of salty liquorice being a superior snack? No chance.

Is it really possible to save the world through the medium of turntable like this guy does? (via biz)

I drove to Llanelli yesterday to visit my Grandpa. It was really nice to have the time to chat with him alone and to pick his brains on questions of calling, leadership, growing up and love. One of the things I'm always struck by is the kind of unwavering love he has for my Grandma, who suffers from Alzheimer's disease.

Theology or not?
For a while I've been pondering whether I should take some time to study theology in a formal setting as the kick start to a life of study. Some would say that by "going away to an ivory tower" and filling your head with knowledge doesn't really prepare you for pastoral work. On the other hand I would love to gain a deeper understanding of scriptures that would equip me to better teach.

Then there's the question of where - in the UK or US?

Do you love your iBook this much?

For snack food I really don't think you can beat salty liquorice and lingonberry juice.

Goodbye Ida, the Trusty Justy, and using Sofia's cosmetics...
Yesterday was an interesting old day. I drove Emelie (in Mark's Trusty Justy) to Stansted for her flight back to Sweden. It was a long trip that started like a roadtrip and ended with a goodbye (I hate goodbyes). When I arrived back in Bristol Mark fed me curry, we chatted, ate salty licquorice and exchanged cosmetics (more accurately he gave me some things Sofia had left behind (due to luggage restrictions) asking "would your sister use these?" to which I responded "I don't know, but I will!") So thank you Sofia, that facewash and hair stuff was just what I needed!

Today I moved my stuff out of the Pink House and drove back to Cardiff.

Some people tell me my blog's interesting. I say "no." But I did drink root beer yesterday.

There are some things I should have posted a while ago, like the fact that Sarcasmo.co.uk exists, and that Banksy has been on a Middle Eastern adventure.

Tuesday was pretty painful on the aural faculties as our listening in the shop consisted of Justin Timberlake's 'Justified' twice, Alisha Keys three times, and some equally as bad extracts from the Forest Gump soundtrack a couple of times over. Needless to say this mental torture wasn't self inflicted.

I'm in Bristol again following a brief but pleasant jaunt to Cardiff and am here until Tuesday...

While I'm here, does anyone have any tips on how to embed pesky fonts that won't embed in pdfs?

Peace out.

The M-Store
I'm in Cardiff working a couple of shifts at the M-Store before returning to Bristol Wednesday night or Thursday morning. It's been real good hooking up with some Cardiff peeps.

Check this out!
Ben's put up some nice pics of peeps in Bristol.

I'm still alive, though have been out of wireless connection for a few days. My email address is changing, so if you haven't received an email from me updating you on my 'new' address please leave a comment and I'll get back to you.

On Saturday we had planned to head to Bristol Academy to hear (and dance to) some Drum'n'Bass, but instead found ourselves on Severn Beach. Sunday was Kubb on the Downs which got rained off (and were thus 'forced' to retire to the pub). Last night Mark and I went ice skating with some new friends.

The future may be blurry, but I'm sure it'll be exciting.