Ball and Chain

Please accept my apologies for any offence caused by the use of this phrase for my title this week.  Notwithstanding its later resentful reference to the oft-caricatured imposition by a wife of restrictions on the preferred solo behaviour of her husband, the origin of the phrase was a means of restraint of prisoners dating back to the early 19th century, or even earlier.  A heavy metal ball was tethered to the leg of the prisoner by a length of chain and a manacle, thus making escape - or movement in general - if not impossible, then certainly most inconvenient.

In its two separate parts, the phrase suits my themes (inasmuch as any of my titles are so suited!)  In the light of last week's post, the ball is inevitably a football.  I had initially looked forward to a second giant-killing expedition by my favourite team, after their defeat of the league leaders.  However, when I looked at my diary, I discovered that the fixture clashed with a family history meeting that I was anxious to attend, having missed the last one because it was on the day of our autumn ringing outing.  My sense of disappointment was relieved, however, when I learned that the match was postponed because of a waterlogged pitch.

On to part two, which I shall explain at greater length.  This is the chain by which one event or happening inevitably leads on to another.  For schools in this area, this week has been half-term; normally this fact doesn't impinge at all on my activities but that didn't hold true on this occasion. 

Some weeks ago, when I planned the Bible studies for my church home-group this term, I left a gap for next Wednesday, which is Ash Wednesday.  This fact has no direct effect on our meeting, but it is usually a good 'hook' upon which to hang a mid-term break.  One of our number then received an appointment for a hospital consultation on the Wednesday of this week, which would have meant missing two weeks from what was a neatly filled schedule.  The obvious answer was to bring forward our break and simply carry out next week what we would have done this week.

This meant that I had a completely free day.  How should I fill it?  I began by looking at train times, thinking a day out in this manner would be a welcome change from driving somewhere.  That very evening, I learned of a trip being organised by our church's families and youth workers.  Only too aware of the difficulties in keeping children occupied for this week, especially when the weather doesn't invite family trips to anywhere, they were planning a coach visit to a half-size replica of Noah's Ark which is presently 'parked' at Ipswich's Orwell Quay.  The notice I saw invited all to join them with the implied aim of filling the coach and recovering more of the financial outlay.

With not a little apprehension, I took this as an opportunity to fill my spare day with little personal effort, and promptly sent off an e-mail expressing interest.  A speedy response told me that, yes, there were still seats available, and my name had been added to the list.  Sorted!   As I queued to board, I was warned that, as the only adult male going, I should be responsible for all the little boys on board.  This tease was accompanied by graphic and (I hope) exaggerated descriptions of their various potential needs.  (Perhaps at this juncture, I should reflect on the possible relevance of the original meaning of my chosen title!) 

Quite apart from the fact that I'm not officially cleared for such duties in any case, any apprehension in that regard was entirely unwarranted.  Although one or two parents were relieved to release their little darlings into the custody of trusted friends, there were sufficient qualified adults and mothers on board to meet the needs of all the youngsters in the party.  The exhibit was both interesting of itself and also instructive in a variety of ways.  I won't spoil the excitement for you.  Further information is on the website and it will be in Ipswich until the end of March.

Whether or not it was linked to half-term, I'm not sure, but the fact remained that there was no drop-in yesterday morning.  Realising this, alongside the pressure I described last week, I had offered for my usual afternoon at the warehouse to extend this week to all day if required.  This was warmly welcomed and, consequently, I arrived yesterday morning to find - with many staff absent on leave - the keys to one of the vans, along with a couple of collection notes.  For the first time, I was out solo on a run that would normally be undertaken by two or three.

Nevertheless, the tasks were simple and the problems few, and the only really awkward point was getting a narrow bookcase, about 2 metres tall, from door to van in a strong wind.  I had to fight to avoid being blown away, but eventually succeeded in getting it on board.  Later, along with a colleague, I visited a total of five shops to deliver items of furniture that had been pre-arranged, so that they had prepared space for their arrival. 

All in all, the way one thing has led to another, this has been a very different week from my usual: in truth, a half-term to remember!