Do you know a Monk? What are they like?
Discussion
I bought some pens at an auction once at this place:
https://www.mirfield.org.uk/
I met a few of the monks and they were all very different, one was so grumpy, another was a nutcase but still enjoyable company.
Just ordinary blokes with a commitment to Christ.
https://www.mirfield.org.uk/
I met a few of the monks and they were all very different, one was so grumpy, another was a nutcase but still enjoyable company.
Just ordinary blokes with a commitment to Christ.
Met a few monks when I was a kid (Mt St Bernard’s abbey in Leicestershire). They seemed ‘ok’ to the best of my recollection – they had a farm at the monastery and didn’t seem to mind my brother and I mucking about. Got to listen in the cloisters to that funky singing/chant they do (Gregorian chanting?) which is always atmospheric.
Nuns… vicious f
kers!
I had to attend a Roman Catholic school from age 4-11 which was partially run by nuns. You didn’t want to fk with them (pun intended) as they were (un)surprisingly sadistic
I had a bet with some of my mates when I was about 8: they said nuns don’t have hair, I said they did… so I crept up behind one and pulled her wimple off (that’s the headscarf/hat thing they wear). Needless to say, Sister Eileen was not amused and punished me by getting a metal ruler, making me clench a fist and bringing the thin edge down over my knuckles about as hard as she could … 5 times. Could barely move my hand for a week, and I swear to this day the bh was enjoying herself a bit too much.
Numerous other examples of the cruelty included making the younger children cry by telling them they were all hell bound they didn’t accept God loved them and pinching them saying that hell was so much worse (real nice thing to do to a 4 year old). Forcing kids to run around outside in their underwear in the rain if they miss-behaved (this was in the winter). Laughing when you fell over/hurt yourself. Knew of a kid who until he was in his 20s (when we lost touch) didn’t have proper use of his left arm due to a nun twisting it badly as punishment.
Not all of them were as bad as each other, but I don’t really recall any kindness from the sisters.
This was back in the late 1970s/early 80s…
I won the bet: nuns DO have hair!
Nuns… vicious f
kers!I had to attend a Roman Catholic school from age 4-11 which was partially run by nuns. You didn’t want to f
k with them (pun intended) as they were (un)surprisingly sadistic I had a bet with some of my mates when I was about 8: they said nuns don’t have hair, I said they did… so I crept up behind one and pulled her wimple off (that’s the headscarf/hat thing they wear). Needless to say, Sister Eileen was not amused and punished me by getting a metal ruler, making me clench a fist and bringing the thin edge down over my knuckles about as hard as she could … 5 times. Could barely move my hand for a week, and I swear to this day the b
h was enjoying herself a bit too much. Numerous other examples of the cruelty included making the younger children cry by telling them they were all hell bound they didn’t accept God loved them and pinching them saying that hell was so much worse (real nice thing to do to a 4 year old). Forcing kids to run around outside in their underwear in the rain if they miss-behaved (this was in the winter). Laughing when you fell over/hurt yourself. Knew of a kid who until he was in his 20s (when we lost touch) didn’t have proper use of his left arm due to a nun twisting it badly as punishment.
Not all of them were as bad as each other, but I don’t really recall any kindness from the sisters.
This was back in the late 1970s/early 80s…
I won the bet: nuns DO have hair!
My mate used to be a monk. He joined a monastery where there was a vow of silence. On day 1, 3 things annoyed him, his mattress was lumpy, the food was dreadful and the window in his room was jammed shut. But being new, he didn't want to say anything.
On his 10th anniversary of joining, he plucked up courage to complain to the abbot about his mattress. The abbot nodded and next day a new one was delivered.
On his 20th anniversary of joining, he complained to the abbot about the food. The abbot nodded and next day a new chef was appointed who cooked nice stuff.
On his 30th anniversary of joining, he complained to the abbot about the window. The abbot nodded and next day a carpenter arrived to fix it.
On his 40th anniversary of joining, he decided this life wasn't for him, so told the abbot he was leaving.
The abbot said "good riddance, you've done nothing but complain since you got here."
On his 10th anniversary of joining, he plucked up courage to complain to the abbot about his mattress. The abbot nodded and next day a new one was delivered.
On his 20th anniversary of joining, he complained to the abbot about the food. The abbot nodded and next day a new chef was appointed who cooked nice stuff.
On his 30th anniversary of joining, he complained to the abbot about the window. The abbot nodded and next day a carpenter arrived to fix it.
On his 40th anniversary of joining, he decided this life wasn't for him, so told the abbot he was leaving.
The abbot said "good riddance, you've done nothing but complain since you got here."
I used to regularly meet a Buddhist monk from the Temple in Wimbledon. He would come up to town and drop into the local Thai cafe at Waterloo for his free lunch 
Lovely chap, very much up to speed on politics and World affairs.
I miss bumping into him he was always so jolly, but the cafe went down hill and I stopped going.
Lovely chap, very much up to speed on politics and World affairs.I miss bumping into him he was always so jolly, but the cafe went down hill and I stopped going.
I worked on a blood donor session in Stepney Green once and bled a nun. The only clue about this was the name on her paperwork, Sister ******. She was in normal clothes.
She was absolutely charming, in her twenties, and I couldn't help pointing out that I'd never had a nun on my bed before. I asked why she wasn't dressed in the traditional manner for a nun and she said she worked in an open order that doesn't believe in shutting themselves away, but goes out on the street looking for good work to do.
One of the donors I met that I shall never forget.
Oh,and my wife is an ordained Buddhist in the FWBO/Triratna, so I suppose that makes her a nun of sorts.
She was absolutely charming, in her twenties, and I couldn't help pointing out that I'd never had a nun on my bed before. I asked why she wasn't dressed in the traditional manner for a nun and she said she worked in an open order that doesn't believe in shutting themselves away, but goes out on the street looking for good work to do.
One of the donors I met that I shall never forget.
Oh,and my wife is an ordained Buddhist in the FWBO/Triratna, so I suppose that makes her a nun of sorts.
I’ve known loads. My parents are Polish catholics and always made a point of getting to know the various priests and monks who would pass through our local Polish parish here in England.
As a result they’d get invited to visit various monasteries and my parents ended up using them as cheap hotels. After a while the monks tended to drop their guard a little and oiled be a lot more open and we would see what they were really like.
Pretty much all were just normal blokes trying to get by in life but perhaps without the support many of us get from our families and friends whilst all the time having to maintain a particular facade for the parishioners.
Father Ted wasn’t actually that far off the mark. Some notable incidents include my mother going out for lunch with one monk who hid under the table when he spotted one of his parishioners. He just wanted a quiet lunch but being spotted out with some woman would have got tongues wagging.
On another occasion I was staying at the monastery with a couple of friends and the Abbott, the guy in charge of the monastery, spent an entire evening hiding in our room because there happened to be a bishop staying overnight and he didn’t want to have to deal with him. Turns out the bishop was returning from a trip to the USA and I got volunteered to help him write a thank you letter to his American hosts as his English wasn’t very good.
When I returned to my room the Abbott and my two friends had drunk all the vodka we’d bought and were all utterly ratarsed despite the language barrier between them. My second good deed of that night was to take the Abbot back to his room safely avoiding running into the bishop.
My parents have many more stories of drunken clerics and raucous laughter at the filthiest jokes but I hope that gives you an idea that they are mostly normal blokes.
As a result they’d get invited to visit various monasteries and my parents ended up using them as cheap hotels. After a while the monks tended to drop their guard a little and oiled be a lot more open and we would see what they were really like.
Pretty much all were just normal blokes trying to get by in life but perhaps without the support many of us get from our families and friends whilst all the time having to maintain a particular facade for the parishioners.
Father Ted wasn’t actually that far off the mark. Some notable incidents include my mother going out for lunch with one monk who hid under the table when he spotted one of his parishioners. He just wanted a quiet lunch but being spotted out with some woman would have got tongues wagging.
On another occasion I was staying at the monastery with a couple of friends and the Abbott, the guy in charge of the monastery, spent an entire evening hiding in our room because there happened to be a bishop staying overnight and he didn’t want to have to deal with him. Turns out the bishop was returning from a trip to the USA and I got volunteered to help him write a thank you letter to his American hosts as his English wasn’t very good.
When I returned to my room the Abbott and my two friends had drunk all the vodka we’d bought and were all utterly ratarsed despite the language barrier between them. My second good deed of that night was to take the Abbot back to his room safely avoiding running into the bishop.
My parents have many more stories of drunken clerics and raucous laughter at the filthiest jokes but I hope that gives you an idea that they are mostly normal blokes.
jurbie said:
My parents have many more stories of drunken clerics and raucous laughter at the filthiest jokes but I hope that gives you an idea that they are mostly normal blokes.
I married the vicar's daughter! Can remember one Monk visiting the rectory for a weekend who greatly enjoyed my FiL's home brew, knocked back a fair few ciggies and like you say, appreciative of the bluer spectrum of comedy.When I was in Thailand there was a Ute driving slowly around a town with a Buddhist monk sat in the back. He was quietly chanting and moving a decorated stick through the air.
Then, as he came past me, he dipped his stick into some water and flicked it at me.
I assume he bestowed a superpower on me but I haven't figured out what it is yet.
Edit: to answer the thread question: no, but if anyone can tell me what my superpower is I'd be grateful
Then, as he came past me, he dipped his stick into some water and flicked it at me.
I assume he bestowed a superpower on me but I haven't figured out what it is yet.
Edit: to answer the thread question: no, but if anyone can tell me what my superpower is I'd be grateful
Edited by durbster on Thursday 8th November 08:59
https://www.thetelegraphandargus.co.uk/news/136226...
yes.
The "Bradford Jesus man". Beat that !!
summer or winter, sunshine or deep snow- he'd be walking about in sandals somewhere.
yes.
The "Bradford Jesus man". Beat that !!
summer or winter, sunshine or deep snow- he'd be walking about in sandals somewhere.
austinsmirk said:
https://www.thetelegraphandargus.co.uk/news/136226...
yes.
The "Bradford Jesus man". Beat that !!
summer or winter, sunshine or deep snow- he'd be walking about in sandals somewhere.
Regularly used to see him knocking about when I was a kid, always polite and pleasant, this was usually when I was waiting for my bus home from Heckmondwike Grammar so a good distance (15 miles? from his home)yes.
The "Bradford Jesus man". Beat that !!
summer or winter, sunshine or deep snow- he'd be walking about in sandals somewhere.
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