A funny thing...

Today, as I often do to kill time during the holidays, I went into town. I drove, as I often do during the holidays, to Carlton Hill, the halls of residence in which I lived during my first year at university. These halls have a car park, and are reasonably central to Leeds. Unfortunatly, the owners realised the prime location of the flats, and put a barrier up to stop cars that aren't owned by people with permits to park there coming in. These permit holders are also issued with cards that they swipe to obtain entry. However, I happen to know that this barrier is constantly up during the university holidays, because people need to come and go with their belongings. I parked in the car park, driving in easily through the raised barrier.
After a good length of time shopping with my next door neighbour, we headed back to the car, only to realise that for some reason, the barrier was now lowered, locking us in. It used to be the case that one could easily lift the barrier by hand, but now it is fitted with an electromagnet that only disengages when you swipe a card. We were stuck, unless we managed to find the owner of one of the cars that were legitimately parked there, to let us out.

We started knocking on doors, and after a few, we got an answer. It was a lovely Irish chap, who, coincidentally, lived in the apartment that I used to live in. Once we had asscertained that he was unable to help us, I mentioned the fact that I had lived in that very flat, four years ago. He seemed to be amused by this, and asked if any of the post was mine. I pointed out that 4 years is quite a long time, and it was unlikely. Nevertheless, he asked if I was called Robert something-or-other. I said no, and he asked if I was Mark Hardy!
'Yes,' I said, 'that's me. I'm Mark Hardy.'
He handed me a letter, which further investigation proved to be a copy of Toronto Airport Christian Fellowship's Catch the Fire magazine! Can you believe it?! For four years, they have been delivering this magazine from another continent to a house that I don't live in! Furthermore, the man now in charge of sending mail out to people like me, is in fact Jonathan Puddle. That's right. J Puddy. Him of the DJ fame. The man that I taught to spin. The New Zealander. The man who is dating my girlfriend's roommate! And there he is, a man I assumed to be very holy (he is, after all, in a position of responsibility at TACF), and he's wasting people's tithes and conference fees, wasting the money that comes in from the bookstore, and also from the Riverside Cafe. He's taking the money that people give to the work of that wonderful church, and he's spending it on sending magazines to houses that I used to live in!

So, I'd just like to apologise to Pudd (and Hamish before him) for allowing them to continue with this wasted task, and also to the people whose gifts to the Lord have been spent on the printing and international postage of an unread magazine. God bless you all...