I ducked out for a latish lunchtime walk and dash to ALDI for lunch supplies today, after finishing a booklet that needed to be printed before tomorrow (I am having a lot of fun with InDesign – I said to the Bishop I was making it for, ‘I didn’t want to overdo it, but I can put more pictures in if you want’, because you can fade them away behind text and all sorts of cool things ...).
On the way in to the shopping centre I all but ignored a person with a bucket of single stem roses that people appeared to be buying. But on the way back he/she (I couldn’t actually tell) bailed me up and asked if I wanted to buy a rose to support sexual health, or something, for a gold coin donation. Without really having time to think about what I was doing or processing what they said I gave this person a gold coin, took my rose and hurried off. Then I realised, to my mortification, that there was a box of something attached to the stem, and that it contained, ahem, err, condoms, and that it was actually ‘National Condom Day’ (aimed at preventing the transmission of STIs and HIV, and unplanned pregnancies, which is not a bad thing really ...) and I might have even said out loud ‘oh, for heaven’s sake’ and shoved the whole thing top down in my shopping bag. Not only had I been walking through the city with a fake red rose, but it had those things hanging off of it! Shame on so many levels.
It made for some amusement when I got back to the office in a state of embarrassment about the whole thing. (But what I am going to do with such things I don't know ...) I then did actually get some good work-related news later in the day, which I’ll share some other time, and so I said ‘Happy Valentine’s Day to me’ in fun after telling a colleague and they respond with ‘that’s better than a condom’. Goodness gracious. Not the sort of conversation one expects to have in my workplace, and might that word never be heard again.
But for something more edifying, I had this little post in my facebook feed on Saturday, Is Their Any Purpose in Our Loneliness, from Lydia Brownbeck, whose writings I have shared here from time to time, though mostly some years ago now. (I'd recommend watching the short video, because it actually comes across better than the transcript below it.)