House and home

I dislike renting a house.

I dislike not being able to add solar panels, better insulation, windows that don't leak, floor materials that wear better, adequate kitchen cupboards that have doors that close.

I dislike knowing that if the landlord decides he doesn't want to rent any more, I will have to move.

I dislike inspections every six months in which a letting agent can decide to make my life difficult or easy based on the "condition" of the house. Inspections of any kind make me nervous anyway, due to unpleasant childhood episodes, but house inspections are frightening enough that I've wriggled out of being home for the last two, leaving them to Intrepid Anthropologist.

On Wednesday we had one such inspection. Previous ones had been all right, we aren't perfect housekeepers but the place isn't filthy, but I was still worried. And this man who didn't even give his name came into the house where we live, our home, and declared it unsatisfactory in all sorts of ways. He actually said "I don't know how you can live this way" to my face.

I repeat, we aren't perfect housekeepers -- but the place is by no means filthy, and we certainly aren't causing damage to the fabric of the property.

And so now we've had a nasty letter from the letting agents, saying there will be a re-inspection for which all of us must be present (why?), demanding various bits of the house are "professionally" cleaned (professional cleaners are, as my housemate points out, just people with materials, experience, and not much better career prospects), saying we must put the garden back in its original state (I've put in some raised beds for growing veg -- the plan is to take them with me when we leave -- on previous inspections they haven't been a problem) and so on. The letter is unpleasant in tone and it isn't even grammatically coherent.

I have a sneaking suspicion that what is actually happening is that the landlord wants the house back, he wants it back before the end of our contract, and the letting agents are trying to get us out by 5th April and have us clean the place from top to bottom first so they don't have to.

We do have friends who work in housing law; as I type this, Intrepid Anthropologist is on her way to visit them to discuss what is and is not reasonable and what part of the letting agent's actions constitute interference with our quiet enjoyment of the property.

But even if that goes well, even if we clean the place from top to bottom before the next inspection (5th March, at least we've got a bit of time, though it will interfere hugely with work), it seems likely to me that the letting agent would rather have us gone than keep us -- if we argue we'll be "problematic" tenants -- and we'll end up moving house again by this summer at the latest. And that, in turn, scares me. I cannot tell you how much I loathe moving house, and doing it because someone else has decided I must is very much worse than it being my own decision.

Your prayers, if you're a praying sort, would be appreciated.

I know that it is unlikely I will end up homeless. I know that even if I were to end up homeless I would, ultimately, be okay. Love is stronger than death, I keep telling myself, so this ought to be a piece of piss. It's a struggle to keep that in mind with this sort of upheaval looming. Emotionally I am veering between trying not to fret because I'm fairly powerless anyway, and a sort of paralysis around the things I can do that might make a difference (mostly, lots of cleaning) because they might not be enough anyway. Ultimately, I do not get to decide whether I stay here: someone who sees me as a source of income, as an object rather than as a human person, gets to decide.

Oh...

Had a chat with Gentle Vicar this week.

I knew about this but hadn't said much here, just yet. Networking Organist is leaving Nearest Church in the autumn and has recommended me to be his replacement. Gentle Vicar is happy to employ me on the strength of that recommendation. That's a little daunting; I think Networking Organist carries a higher opinion of my skills than I do.

The money is not brilliant, but it is regular. Professionally, there's a reasonable amount of flexibility, a reasonable freedom to experiment... the music at Nearest Church is in a bit of a sorry state, but building something out of that will be a valuable and rewarding experience, if trying at times.

I have concerns about some of the relationships within the community, concerns about my own leadership ability, but Gentle Vicar does seem to be, for the most part, my kind of heretic; he's someone I do think I can talk to about these concerns, as well as some of my hopes and tentative plans for what could be done. I think, I hope, that we can also be quite reasonable about the hat-swapping -- sometimes I will be the organist, sometimes I will be the parishioner. Sometimes Gentle Vicar will be my boss and sometimes my parish priest. I think we can deal with that.

The organ is in a rather sorry state, too. But you play the instrument you have. It won't get repaired if it doesn't get used.

While my physical problems are painful at times, they're unlikely to stop me playing in the near future. When they do -- if they do -- loss of function should be gradual enough that I can give appropriate notice. Gentle Vicar is supportive about that, too.

I said yes. I think I'm going to make a huge number of mistakes, but I said that, and I said yes anyway. We'll sort out the details nearer the time.

I don't know how much I'm going to blog about it. I want to protect some of my anonymity. I guess I'm just another organist in a suburban parish church with an ageing congregation, though.

It's never quite simple, is it?

Went to Nearest Church again today.

The vicar was away and there were no smells but still bells. I'd never seen Communion by Extension before so it was interesting from that point of view. The sermon was given by the reader again -- I still haven't heard the vicar preach. But it was, while academic and erudite, a message of inclusion and hope.

I had a long chat with Networking Organist. Again. He does rather like to talk.

I can't go into a whole lot of detail here without destroying anonymity. But the situation at Nearest Church is not straightforward, and neither is the situation at Church-by-the-Station. Both are going through changes and transitions right now and nothing is stable.

Networking Organist has been generous and supportive, and has made clear on a number of occasions that I am welcome to make use of the resources at Nearest Church for my own education regardless of whether I end up in regular worship there. He also understands that I will get involved in the music wherever I end up and that it is important to me that I do not simply end up doing that as another part of my professional portfolio. He said, and I quote, "Any church you attend will find a way to use your musical skills, but I think you need to find your voice and develop your own role." I'm floored.

We spoke of the ways that might happen, and some of the obstacles to it at Nearest Church and elsewhere, and he reminded me again that I don't have to make any hasty decisions.

The path that seemed open last week, that of being involved musically at both churches, is looking clearer now. There is work for me to do at both. It remains to be seen whether Church-by-the-Station will be supportive.

Spoilt for choice.

I went to Church-by-the-Station today.

I was not feeling very happy about this search for a church thing, before I left. I felt like going to Deacon Friend's church where I know I'm welcome in the choir and where I know I'm not going to be afraid of the clergy. But I wouldn't have been able to get there before the end of the service, as it's a 90-minute journey.

With that not an option I felt like staying home and singing instead. But that's never the same as worship with other people, and that won't find me a church.

So I went.

I am glad I went.

Like my visit to Nearest Church two weeks ago, this visit left my imagination alive with possibilities for getting more involved. The music director will be leaving in a few months, though the organist is staying on, and while I am perhaps young and inexperienced there is definitely scope for me to get very involved in the choral side of things should I so wish, without having to build it up nearly from scratch. There are some deaf parishioners and the entire liturgy was simultaneously translated into British Sign Language; when I spoke to choir members they said they hadn't done any choral signing, which is a shame. I bet it would be a possibility, though. The priest who had been doing the signing came and made the sign for peace at us during the peace, I tried to make it back at her but probably messed it up.

Church-by-the-Station is, er, right by Upper Suburbia Tube station. As such it attracts people from all walks of life who just drop in. It seems to take very seriously the call to serve the wider community. The sermon was relevant both to the day's readings and to issues which affect the community. Less of the liturgy was sung than at Long Walk Church and there were no smells or bells, but still processions. The blessing I received at the altar was long but full of almost-tangible warmth, I had a real sense of God there. That was true at Nearest Church, too, but not at Long Walk Church last week.

The choir and organist were very friendly; and again I had people taking my details, saying they'd pass them on to people who wanted music lessons. I ran into Networking Organist from Nearest Church and we had a brief chat about things, which was great.

I actually got a chance to talk to the Vicar for a bit. Or I got a chance for him to talk to me... he seemed very eager to tell me about the things the church has done for the community in recent years, very eager to reassure me that the three churches I have visited so far all work closely together, very eager to emphasize a strong commitment to arts ministry and to equality. Perhaps he was a bit too eager; why not let the facts speak for themselves? But for all that, he did seem to understand that I am looking to make a long-term commitment to a community and that it will take some time to figure out which is right for me. He spoke of the right place being the place that I find that I meet God.

On the whole I felt a lot better for having been to the service. It still really isn't clear where I will end up. But how blessed am I, that there are these three churches I could attend? All of them seem to be places that would nurture me in some ways and challenge me in others. All of them seem to have a strong commitment to serving the wider community. The degrees of inclusiveness vary a bit and perhaps aren't entirely clear but all of the congregations are at least attempting to engage with those issues on some level. And all of them are places where I could get involved with the musical side of things and make significant and useful contributions while learning an awful lot.

I guess the thing now is to keep going back and see what happens... see whether the sermons at Nearest Church get better, see whether the community at Long Walk Church is a little more friendly once you get to know people, see whether Church-by-the-Station really does walk the walk as well as talking the talk.

But I might go visit Deacon Friend next Sunday at Leafy Suburb Church, despite the journey, just to rest in something known, to comfort myself with the slightly-familiar, and perhaps by attending a service at a church where I know I won't be able to make a long-term commitment, turn off that part of my brain which for the last three Sundays has been evaluating everything as it goes by.

Home again, home again...

Today I have been mostly playing one of those little games you get in the more expensive Christmas crackers. You know the sort: lots of square tiles that slide around, with one space in the grid free, and a picture printed on them, and you have to make them fit the puzzle.

Only I've been doing it with furniture and boxes, in three dimensions. Four if you count time... I'm not really meant to do any heavy lifting, and I have to take lots of breaks. But there has been progress and I don't think I've done myself any permanent damage.

I think we might just manage to make this work even with the Ghastly Items of Excess Furniture that the landlord is now refusing to remove. We might have to get rid of the Charming Cupboard that Intrepid Anthropologist bought, back when we thought various larger bits would be leaving in a matter of days or weeks. That would be a shame, but we'll cope somehow. Things are taking shape a bit and though there is still much work to be done I can see that I will have the music room ready to teach in by September.

I remain upset by the whole affair: there are many things I am willing to overlook, and I understand that the house will never match my conceptions of perfection, but to me, saying you will remove something and then changing your mind is a pretty serious breach of trust. And I don't deal very well with breaches of trust regarding housing. I've been trying to forgive, trying even to pray for the landlord and letting agent, and all I seem to be able to come up with is along the lines of "Please let them see that we are right, please let them stop being idiots and do what they said they would instead of fobbing us off with excuses..." And then I feel small and sad, because as far as trespasses go this is pretty small beans and I'm so awfully petty I can't even see past my own indignation. Maybe instead I should pray to have a more loving, less fearful heart, though it was wanting to give them the benefit of the doubt that stopped me asking them to put their offers in writing in the first place. More fool me, with a cherry on top.

I walked the mile and a half to Long Walk Church this morning to go to Morning Prayer and nobody was there; usually there is the vicar and two or three others. Door was locked, too. I hope they are all okay. There wasn't a notice on the door other than the usual one with times of services and prayers; perhaps the main noticeboard had something and I didn't see it. They don't have any way to contact me if things are canceled and may not have thought to anyway as I haven't been attending very long or very regularly.

With a bit of luck, by this time next week I'll have a desk.

Just went to my first Sunday service in Upper Suburbia. There are a few different churches I want to check out... maybe shopping around isn't the way to go, maybe it's better just to plonk myself down somewhere and make the best of it, but several options look like they might be suitable.

So at Nearest Church, people were warm and welcoming. I'm not entirely certain what I think of incense and bells, but I appreciate that it is meaningful to some. They are certainly in the Catholic end of the Anglo-Catholic spectrum, but they also emphasize inclusiveness and acceptance on their website and seem to be fairly involved with other local churches. They have a cafe they've opened recently which is excellent (I've been twice; good food, cheap too, and absolutely no pressure from anyone: just a friendly community space). The sermon was meandering but thoughtful.

There is a hint of a Song-shaped hole in the music. Different people mentioned various possibilities for paid work, which surprised me a little; I'd been thinking of what I might be able to contribute, but had assumed there would be no financial compensation until after some years of volunteering or apprenticeship, because churches are always strapped for cash. The organist is lovely, has similar views to mine regarding teaching and performance, gave me a run-down of the local church music scene, and is happy for me to essentially use that organ--quite a nice one--to teach myself how to play and write for organs (a major hole in my background, especially in the context of writing for small parishes who don't have many trained musicians and may not be able to get the resources for SATB a capella but can probably scrape up an organist on occasion and probably have organs left over from a time when people spent serious money on church music).

And it felt so good to sing again, to sing in worship with other people. And to go up to the altar for a blessing... it's been more than a month, and I don't know if it's just me, just wishful thinking, a sort of psychosomatic grace, but it feels like something happens there. That's for another post, perhaps.

I don't know if this particular parish is the right church for me but I feel more confident now that church, more generally, is right for me.

Home sweet home

We have signed the necessary bits of dead tree, and each been granted a set of keys.

Future Housemate shall henceforth be known as Intrepid Anthropologist. "Home" is now our lovely rented house in Upper Suburbia. There is much work to do and not nearly enough time, but it is ours to shape, for as long as the tenancy allows us to do so.

We celebrated with tea and cake and our first guest, Sweetie's father, who has kindly offered to donate some cutlery to the household. Not just any cutlery, mind you--cutlery he made himself, in 1954. It is a very special and very appropriate housewarming gift.

There are (at least) two fruiting plum trees in our road, and a handy stepladder in the kitchen. This pleases me greatly.

I got soaked through on my way back to the station. I don't mind.