Candlemas was yesterday. Today is the Feast of St Blaise when one is supposed to bless throats but there being scant precedent for the Service of the Blessing of Throats at St James' Penicuik we went ahead and modified our monthly Family Service along the lines of the Feast of the Presentation. Guitars, cellos, violins, a drum set, a djembe and a piano (me on the tambourine during a couple of the livelier ones). Candles were blessed. Things proceeded decently and in good order.

In the course of talking to the children about the various occasions where we still use candles in the course of our daily lives I spoke about their use as emergency equipment.

Years ago I was the Rector of Christ Church, Chibougamau and the Priest in Charge of St Barnabas' Waswanipi in the Diocese of Moosonee (northern Quebec). I lived in Chibougamau. My second point was 140 kilometres away. In order to say Mass in two places (twice a month, anyway) this made for a 280 kilometre round trip and it had to be undertaken rain or shine.

That particular corner of the world is a real snow belt - it gets as much snow as Winnipeg and it falls at inconvenient times. Add to this the occasional winter trip to our See City of Schumacher in Ontario (best approached via the back roads through Amos and Cochrane) and that makes one hell of a lot of winter driving in conditions which most people cannot imagine.

So it pays to be equipped. You can be stuck all night on one of these lonely roads without a soul coming along to help you. You keep a down-filled sleeping bag, extra matches, a jerry can of diesel, snow shoes, and a spray can of ether to spray into the air filter to give the engine a bit of a jump when you're starting it on a cold day. And candles.

A trick which I was taught by an old fellow who once ferried Lancaster Bombers over Greenland during the Second World War: You carry about a twenty ordinary builders' bricks and a box of emergency candles. If you have to ditch your bomber over Greenland or Franz Josef Land or if you wind up in a snowbank in the middle of northern Quebec you build a couple of small ovens out of the bricks and place a lit emergency candle in the midst of them. By isolating yourself in the truck or in the airplane's fusilage you can turn these little brick ovens into two small radiators which will prove adequate to keep you alive indefinitely.

Postnote:

Sam Thomas - our Regional Dean in those days - came to the Rectory in Chibougamau and noticed all the equipment lying in the back of my Toyota Landcruiser. After coming in and helping himself to a cup of tea Sam says to me:

Rob - couldn't help noticing that you've got an axe, ropes and a can of ether in your truck. It's no mystery to me why you can never get a date!