I may be simplistic in my personal walk, but I was all bogged down and tangled up in the complexities of humanity and church, and then this ...

Our cats. So thoughtful. Such presentation. Such pride. Right there on the rug dead centre in front of the hearth stone, a splendid ...

Our home group has just started a new study course called "Going to Galway" (from the old Irish joke's punchline, "If I w...

I wish a television channel — or at least a programme — existed, in which almost nothing happened. I love costume drama; but it's t...

Every now and then I like to go back to York to check in with my old friends — the Minster and Betty's Café, my places of pilgrimage. ...

Hello friends — I've had a heads-up to the effect that comments left here are not getting through to me; which is why the last few posts...

I recently permanently deleted my Facebook accounts — both the one I kept for closest friends and family, and the only slightly larger one t...

The times we live in leave me struggling.  The two aspects that most deeply disturb me are war and lies. Both of these spit in the face of...

Father Tom Cullinan, a Benedictine monk, lives in a wood on the edge of Liverpool. He follows a path of wise simplicity, grows vegetables an...