Friday, 4 October 2013

Buzz Newsletter October - November


BUZZ Newsletter                                     
Scottish Episcopal Church
Of Christ Church, Lochgilphead
St Columba’s Poltalloch and
All Saints, Inveraray

No. 192
October/November 2013

 Christ Church Services 11.00 am                  Celebrant                                             Readers

6 October,             HC (1982                              Rev Michael Kitchener                       Char Hanbury
Pentecost 20, Proper 27: Habakkuk 1 v.1-4 & 2 v.1-4; 2 Timothy 1 v.1-14; Luke 17 v.5-10

13 October,           HC (1970)                             Ted Self                                                 Brian Blench
Pentecost 21, Proper 28: 2 Kings 5 v.1-3 & v.7-15c; 2 Timothy 2 v.8-15; Luke 17 v.11-19

20 October,           HC (1982)                             Bill Hanbury                                         Polly Hamilton    
Pentecost 22, Proper 29: Genesis 32 v.22-31; 2 Timothy 3 v.14 - 4 v.5; Luke 18 v.1-8

27 October,           Matins & HC                        Ted Self                                                 Anne Pascoe
Pentecost 23, Proper 30: Ecclesiasticus 35 v.12-17; 2 Timothy 4 v.6-8 & v.16-18; Luke 18 v.9-14

3 November,         HC (1982)                             Margaret Armour                                                Char Hanbury
Pentecost 24, Proper 31: Isaiah 1 v.10-18; 2 Thessalonians 1 v.1-4 & v.11-12; Luke 19 v.1-10

10 November, 11.30am     HC (1970)             Keith Pagan                                          Brian Blench
Pentecost 25, Proper 32: Job 19 v.23-27a; 2 Thessalonians 2 v.1-5 & v.13-17; Luke 20 v.27-38

17 November,      HC (1982)                             Margaret Armour                                                Char Hanbury
Pentecost 26, Proper 33: Malachi 4 v.1-2a; 2 Thessalonians 3 v.6-13; Luke 21 v.5-19

24 November,      Matins & HC                        Bill & Char Hanbury                          Char Hanbury
Feast of Christ the King: Jeremiah 23 v.1-6; Colossians 1 v.11-20; Luke 23 v.33-43

Poltalloch Services
06 October            Eucharist               9.00 am                 Bill Hanbury
20 October            Evensong              3.30 pm                 Robin Byatt
03 November       Eucharist               9.00 am                 Rev Michael Kitchener
17 November       Evensong              3.30 pm                 Bill Hanbury
 
All Saints Church, Inveraray
Please contact Catriona Beel for service information all.saints.sec@btinternet.com
 
~ ~ ~ EDITOR’S LETTER~ ~ ~
Dear Reader
Welcome to the 192nd edition of Buzz.  It’s been a busy, and in the main, lovely couple of months and now we’re well on the way in to autumn, and before we know it our thoughts will be turning to Christmas, in fact the Co-op already has Mince Pies for sale!  But until then we will keep our minds on the ‘Mists and mellow fruitfulness’ of this, possibly, the most beautiful of seasons, especially in Argyll.  We will be celebrating this traditional time of harvest with a Harvest Breakfast & Thanksgiving Service - on which more later.

If anyone feels stirred to put pen to paper we will be pleased to receive short articles and photographs.  Please send them to Fiona at Campbellrice1@aol.com or Kate at themacdonald2@btinternet.com 

Many thanks, The Editor
~ ~ ~ ~ CHURCH NOTICE BOARD ~ ~ ~ ~

September Harvest Food & Country Home Fair
28th Saturday 10am-4pm 29th Sunday 12pm-4pm

Programme:
Saturday
10.00am Opening by Argyll Brass.
Food photography, styling, cooking demonstrations throughout the day.
2pm The Walking Theatre Company ‘Flying Kitchen’ a WWII food-themed cookery play
Sunday
9.30/10.00am Harvest breakfast
11.00 A family and non-denominational harvest celebration of readings, poems and hymns. 
12. 00pm Fair opens
Food photography, styling, cooking demonstrations throughout the afternoon.

Harvest Breakfast The Harvest Breakfast will be held from 9.30/10.00 before the church service at 11.00 on Sunday 29th, in the Rectory.  As we haven’t had an actual Harvest Thanksgiving for a while we thought it would be a nice idea to make it a pot-luck event and suggest people might like to contribute a small amount of food each for all to share at the breakfast table.   Tea, coffee will be provided.  All will be welcome.

Harvest Thanksgiving Service The Service will be a family and non-denominational celebration of readings, poems and hymns, with a short communion service afterwards for those who wish to stay.

Request
If anyone is able to make donations for the Church produce table (cakes, bread, preserves) and/or the Church Raffle please leave them in the back of the Church for Margaret Armour during the week, or see Kate MacDonald in Bishopton House on Friday 28th thank you.
 
Special Service
On November 10th following the Remembrance Sunday service (starting at the War Memorial in Lochgilphead at 11.00am) we will be extending the morning service to include the dedication of the plaque to commemorate Roy's service to this charge.  Andrina and the boys will be here, so the plan is to use this occasion to have a congregational lunch in Inveryne Lodge, on a 'bring-to-share' basis.  Please let Char Hanbury know if you are able to come along.  char.hanbury@btinternet.com

*****BREAKING NEWS!*****

New Priest Update
CC Vestry is delighted to announce that a new priest has been appointed.  The Reverend Simon Mackenzie is to be the next priest for the charges in Mid Argyll and Arran. 

Following his time at Oxford University, Father Simon worked in Glasgow.  Trained at The College of The Resurrection, Mirfield, and was ordained in 1985.  Father Simon Mackenzie will be joining us in November his induction lead by Bishop Kevin will be on Monday the 25th of November.  As Bishopton is not currently habitable he, with his little Cairn Terrier, will be living in a cottage along the canal initially.

I shall let him introduce himself in his own words:
I was born in Goondiwindi, Queensland, in a family with strong and cherished connections (including a family burial-ground, to which I am now drawing closer) with Wester Ross, where we spent nearly every summer holiday after our return to Britain. In fact, I learnt the alphabet in West Terrace, Ullapool.

The rest of my schooling was south of the Border, finishing up in Oxford, and then in West Bengal where I studied Buddhism on a Commonwealth scholarship. My first job was as a Lecturer in Religious Studies in the University of Glasgow, teaching Indian religion. There I became friends with St Mary’s Cathedral. After that, I translated (into English - a cardinal rule) for a few years before being accepted for Ordination, and training at the College of the Resurrection, Mirfield. The doctrine tutor there was Dr Michael Kitchener, who left at the end of my first year, before he had time to set me straight. It was a deficiency I hope now to make good.

I served my title in the Black Country, that unique land of (former) industrial hamlets which lies between Wolverhampton, West Bromwich and Walsall (and is definitely not Birmingham), a place whose inhabitants remember, quite frequently, that Queen Victoria had the curtains of her carriage closed as she made her way through on her railway journeys to the Highlands. After three months, most people can understand basic conversation in the Black Country dialect, although few indeed are those who have become fluent. Nearly six years of eventful and happy ministry later, I left the Diocese of Lichfield and moved to Birmingham, where I have served as parish priest of St Matthew, Perry Beeches for the last 22 years, in a wonderful light-filled modernist building consecrated in 1964. My colleagues remind me that I vowed never to work in a Victorian church - but that was, of course, only in England. If you’re going to eat your words, they might as well make a satisfying meal: and now I’ll have 3 of ’em. I have been learning Gaelic over the last 50 years, which makes me a slow learner, including a couple of weeks at An Sabhal Mòr.

My sister and niece and hundreds of Mackenzie cousins live in Queensland and New South Wales, able to feast on paw-paws and mangoes to their hearts’ content - but we can eat herring. I am looking forward to introducing Donan Donn to the hills of Argyllshire. He was very disappointed on a recent week on Loch Eriboll to discover how few the sticks were, and hopes Argyllshire is better provided. I am also delighted to think that I shall now be paid to travel on ferries: there is little more the heart could yearn for.
~~~ LETTERS ~~~

Diocesan Newsletter 9.13 - response
I become very focused when I see people are using TLA s (Three Letter Acronyms) which they assume EOE (everyone else) will understand.
Early in September I received an email with a link to the latest Diocesan Newsletter.  I clicked on it and noticed that following his ‘sign off’ our Bishop had inserted the letters ‘ATI’.  I was unfamiliar with these three letters so I decided to undertake some internet research to ascertain what these mean.
The responses included:
ATI technologies                                   What is Bishop Kevin’s latest gizmo?
ATI people                                              Has Bishop Kevin formed an alliance with a tribe in the Philippines?
Alexander Technique International       Has the stress of the role overcome Bishop Kevin?
Advanced Training institute                  Has the Diocesan Treasurer allocated sufficient funds in the budget?
African Trade Insurance                      Please look out for spurious emails from the new sales representative!
Ati video card                                         Will Bishop Kevin be providing a video to rural places every Sunday?
Agricultural Technical Institute          This must be it, particularly so since the front page of the Sept 2013 Diocesan  
         Newsletter portrays Bishop Kevin, suit and black shoe clad, about to mount a tractor at the Royal Highland Show!
Perhaps not.  Let’s think again: perhaps ‘A’ is for Anglican?
Let’s try: Anglican Theological Institute         No… it’s not that; it didn’t come up.

Editors note: A later email from the correspondent read, that after conversation with Su in the Diocesan Office ATI = Argyll & The Isles!!

HOST
Many international students come to Scotland to study at our universities. Will they make contact with people and life beyond the academic environment?  What will they do for a homely break if home is too far away? For 26 years, national charity HOST has been linking students with volunteer hosts, who invite a student to spend a day, a weekend, Christmas or New Year in their home. Chatting; eating together; playing games; seeing the area; joining in with the local community; making friends – a HOST visit lays down wonderful memories to be re-lived in China, India, the USA and many other parts of the world. And hosts learn from their guests too.

Although the item is self-explanatory, perhaps I could say that we have an urgent need for additional volunteer hosts in Scotland, as the University of Glasgow has just joined the HOST programme, and other universities in Scotland are planning to increase their promotion of the scheme to international students. So we are expecting to need more kind invitations this year from people living anywhere in Scotland.

If you could make a student welcome, please contact HOST through www.hostuk.org or call HOST’s voluntary regional organiser for Scotland, Alan Robson, on 01946 825170. Thank you.

HOST UK, Unit 8 Water House, 8 Orsman Road, London N1 5QJ

~ ~ ~ ~ RECENT ACTIVITIES ~ ~ ~ ~

Vintage Sale & Tea Room
Bishopton House was recently the venue for a popup tearoom and vintage sale during August.  The West Coast Events girls opened the tearoom for two days during the Art Map Argyll weekend in August.  Visitors were most amused to find that not only were they able to buy tea, coffee & delicious home baking but also the chairs and tables, and even the cups and saucers!

Around 200 people visited the tearoom, many locals & members of the congregation dropped in and enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere, with visitors to the area expressing their surprise when they learned that it was for two days only, thinking that it was a permanent tearoom! 




Special Anniversary Peal
On 10th August, 2013, a special peal was rung at All Saints' Bell Tower, marking the 75th Anniversary of the first peal rung at the Bell Tower, on August 9th, 1938.  For the information of the bell ringers among us, that was a Peal of Kent Treble Bob Royal in 4 hours, 3 minutes, with 5000 Changes.  The ten ringers, mainly from the south of England, had been lead by Charles Kippin, father of the leader of the Anniversary Peal, Chris Kippin, whose aunt, Gwendoline, is the only surviving member of the original band.    The Anniversary Peal was a Bristol Surprise Royal, with 5000 Changes, in 3 hours, 57 minutes.   Although the journey time to Inveraray for the ringers in 2013 would be shorter, and probably more comfortable, than in 1938, the actual ringing itself is little altered.   

We at All Saints' are very grateful to all ringers who make the effort to come to ring our bells , the second heaviest peal of ten in the World, after Wells Cathedral.

~~~ DATES FOR DIARIES ~~~
September
28th  & 29th  Harvest Food & Country Home Fair
29th Harvest Breakfast & Harvest Thanksgiving Service
October
6th Coffee & Cake after the service
November
3rd Coffee & cake after the service
8 & 9th Christmas Market
10th Remembrance Sunday Service, including dedication of plaque for Roy Flatt after which pot luck lunch at Inveryne Lodge.
25th The induction of Father Simon Mackenzie by Bishop Kevin time TBC.
30th Sat Advent Service in support of Christian Aid Sat 30th November.
 
~ ~ ~ ~ THOUGHTFUL MOMENTS ~ ~ ~ ~

Lord may I live a life
A life that tells on other lives
And makes this world less full of
Anguish and of pain
A life that like a pebble dropped
Upon the sea
Sends its wide circles to a hundred shores
May such a life be mind
God grant it me
 
Every morning, lean thine arms awhile
Upon the windowsill of heaven
And gaze upon thy God.
Then, with the vision in thy heart
Turn strong to meet the day.
 
Lord, give me eyes that I may see
Lest I, as people will,
Pass by someone’s Calvary
And think it just a hill
 
 
 
 
With thanks to Ros Box for suggesting these

~ ~ ~ ~ FUN STUFF ~ ~ ~ ~
This was recently emailed to the Editor by a reader in response to the last edition of Buzz.  Don’t forget if you have anything for the Newsletter Kate & Fiona would be delighted to receive it. 

A minister was about to baptise a child and said to the father “Name this child”. He replied “Spindona”. A new name for the minister so he asked again: “Can you please name this child”. Once again the father replied “Spindona”. The Minister duly said “I baptise thee Spindona, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” The father, and mother, became a little aggrieved but didn't say a word since they were in awe of all the proceedings, particularly so since neither attended church on a regular basis.  Following the service the father said to the minister “why did you christen our little Mairi ‘Spindona’? “ The minister replied “that was the name you gave me.” “Och nae”, said the father, “I said her name ‘is pinned on her’”!

Autumn Scramble
Unjumble the letters in our Autumn Scramble puzzle to find a collection of Autumn words - it's quite tricky!

vhtsear __________               aveesl  __________

cesowrrac ________               lowlye __________

binrefo __________                prae     __________

aker     __________                racon   __________

isrqeulr__________                palep    __________

nagreo __________                dre       __________

        owbrn  __________           tmnuua   __________

 

Thursday, 3 October 2013

Harvest Breakfast

 
As part of Christ Church's harvest celebration the church's first Bringalonga Breakfast was an unqualified success!


A select group met in the Rectory bringing a fine selection of goodies, Kedgeree, Savoury Bacon and Cheese pastries, Filled Ham Rollovers, Croisants, Homemade Bread, Marmalade & Jam, as fine a brekky as anyone ever sat down to.  Grace was said by the Rev Peter Rice and much good humour and fellowship followed.



Happy breakfasters then adjourned to the church for a service consisting of a Harvest anthology followed by Eucharist.

The church had been dressed overall with Autumn leaves and berries and end of season flowers and really looked lovely.

Harvest Service



Our harvest thanksgiving service readings
 
Good morning and welcome to this short service of appreciation for what we have received. When compiling this list of readings, it became obvious that harvest is a nostalgic event and that to-days high tec. Farming has virtually wiped out the traditional idea of harvests that we all hold dear. So to day we celebrate the past and the world of nature around us, starting at the beginning - -
 
 
Genesis 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God.  All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.

 And God said “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.”  And it was so.  God called the dry ground ‘Land’; and the gathered waters he called ‘Seas’: And God saw that it was good.

Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds”: And it was so. The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds, and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good. 

Then God said, “Behold, I give you every seed bearing plant on the face of the whole earth, and every tree that has fruit with seed in it.  They will be yours for food.  And to all the beasts of the earth, and all the birds of the air, and all the creatures that move on the ground – everything that has the breath of life in it  -  I give every green plant for food”. And it was so.  
God saw all that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.


Hymn  447.    Morning has broken like the first morning.

 


Mark

And Jesus taught them many things in parables, and in his teaching said, “Listen. A farmer went out to sow his seed.  As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil.  It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow.  But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered away because they had no root.  Other seed fell among thorns; which grew up, and choked the plants, so that they did not bear grain.  Still other seed fell on good soil.  It came up, grew, and produced a crop, multiplying thirty, sixty, or even a hundred times.”

 
Weeds in a garden

I spent this morning hoeing in a part of the garden which had run to weeds very miserably.  Thistles, nettles, chickweed, and a multitude of other undesirable growths had taken possession and extinguished every decent inhabitant of the soil.  There are few more depressing spectacles than a garden that has fallen on evil times and has become a sort of slum of nature, where everything that is beautiful and wholesome has been trampled out of existence and everything that is coarse and worthless riots in profusion and triumph.  As I hoed the weeds up I reflected on the generosity with which Nature looks after the weeds and the meanness she shows for the more delicate and beautiful of her children.  Nature must love the weeds, or she would not have made them such sturdy fellows and given them such a lusty hold on life.
 
Hymn  705.   We plough the fields and scatter.
 

The Harvest Moon


The flame-red moon, the harvest moon,
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing,
A vast balloon,
Till it takes off, and sinks upward
To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon.
The harvest moon has come,
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon.
And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum.

So people can't sleep,
So they go out where elms and oak trees keep
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush.
The harvest moon has come!

And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
Closer and closer like the end of the world.

Till the gold fields of stiff wheat
Cry `We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers
Sweat from the melting hills.
 


Harvest on Jura in the 1920s

In the golden days of autumn, usually the first week of October, when the sun seems all the hotter for the night’s hint of frost on the high ground, the hay harvest was carried. 

The hurdle was lifted off the big gate, brushwood bases were set out for two big stacks – oblongs as long as the byre and parallel with its wall.  Away up the bay a procession of carts was winding along the road by the shore – everyone was coming to help.

Soon the carts were bringing in their loads of sweet-smelling hay.  When the first layer had been laid on the brushwood and the two elders in charge had got it settled and squared off to their satisfaction, the women and children climbed on to it and started the tramping, firming the hay down smooth and even, slow and steady up and down the length of the stack, turning clockwise at the end, never withershins.  One of the elders was on top to control the trampers and the other was below, endlessly combing down the sides and ends on the stack to keep them vertical.  Salt was sprinkled on the warm hay – not too much and not too little – as up and up the stack went until a ladder was needed to get up and it was a long reach for the forkers even from the carts.

There was laughter and wisecracks and an enormous feeling of wellbeing and rejoicing.  Pails of buttermilk and baskets of girdle scones with butter and jam were brought out, and everyone was expected to both eat and drink.

Tramp tramping up and down, never too near the edge but near enough, keeping well clear of the forks as they brought the hay up to the builder and came away clean and shining.  Gradually the top of the stack grew smaller and smaller as they brought it in to a slope steeper than the byre roof.   Now we slithered down leaving the old ones to do the finishing while we started on the next stack, tramp tramping while the heat rose from the hay in a shimmer and our noses twitched with scents and dust.

The stacks were allowed to settle before they were thatched, just like a house but not quite so thickly, and then carefully roped.  A rope went the whole length along the ridge and was fastened to a big stone almost at ground level.  Then ropes were thrown over from side to side, about five or six of them, again secured to big stones; other ropes going over between these were fixed to the stacks by twisting then into the hay on the vertical sides. Then, starting from near the ridge, ropes were threaded through the whole length of the stack and made fast to the main ridge rope at the gable ends.

The harvest moon rose red and huge over the sea, the stacks cast dark shadows, the owls called in their new hunting ground, while the cows in the byre rattled their chains as they tossed the sweet hay.  The harvest was home.


Hymn 121.  Come, ye thankful people, come


From The Village, in 1947

Harvest is literally the crown of the year for us who live in the cornlands; all the months lead up to it and upon its success or failure depends all we know of prosperity.  No sooner is the stubble ploughed in, than the drill advances over the field, scattering the new seed, first the winter wheats, whose frail green straws will lie buried under the snow, and then the oats and the barley.  To casual eyes it all looks much the same throughout the spring and early summer; but as it ripens, the differences become more obvious.  Barley in ear is like fur, like a soft pelt, and it ripples like water as the wind blows over it.  Gradually, as harvest time draws nearer, the ails begin to bend over, till at last they point back to the earth instead of up at the sun.  But to the very end the wheat heads remain erect and proud.  Both fall at last however, to the binder whose clatter is the best counterpart we have today to the sibilant scythe.


Diary of a Church Mouse.

Christmas and Easter may be feasts
For congregations and for priests,
And so may Whitsun. All the same,
They do not fill my meager frame.
For me the only feast at all
Is Autumn's Harvest Festival,
When I can satisfy my want
With ears of corn around the font.
I climb the eagle's brazen head
To burrow through a loaf of bread.
I scramble up the pulpit stair
And gnaw the marrows hanging there.
It is enjoyable to taste
These items ere they go to waste,
But how annoying when one finds
That other mice with pagan minds
Come into church my food to share
Who have no proper business there.
Two field mice who have no desire
To be baptized, invade the choir.
A large and most unfriendly rat
Comes in to see what we are at.
He says he thinks there is no God
And yet he comes ... it's rather odd.
This year he stole a sheaf of wheat
(It screened our special preacher's seat),
And prosperous mice from fields away
Come in to hear our organ play,
And under cover of its notes
Ate through the altar's sheaf of oats.
A Low Church mouse, who thinks that I
Am too papistical, and High,
Yet somehow doesn't think it wrong
To munch through Harvest Evensong,
While I, who starve the whole year through,
Must share my food with rodents who
Except at this time of the year
Not once inside the church appear.
Within the human world I know
Such goings-on could not be so,
For human beings only do
What their religion tells them to.
They read the Bible every day
And always, night and morning, pray,
And just like me, the good church mouse,
Worship each week in God's own house,
But all the same it's strange to me
How very full the church can be
With people I don't see at all
Except at Harvest Festival.

Hymn  26.  All things Bright and Beautiful.
 

Moonlit Apples.

At the top of the house the apples are laid in rows,
And the skylight lets the moonlight in, and those
Apples are deep-sea apples of green.  There goes
A cloud on the moon in the autumn night.

A mouse in the wainscot scratches, and scratches, and then
There is no sound at the top of the house of men
Or mice; and the cloud is blown, and the moon again
Dapples the apples with deep-sea light.

They are lying in rows there, under the gloomy beams;
On the sagging floor; they gather the silver streams
Out of the moon, those moonlit apples of dreams,
And quiet is the steep stair under.

In the corridors under there is nothing but sleep,
And stiller than ever on orchard bough they keep
Tryst with the moon, and deep is the silence, deep
On moon-washed apples of wonder.


The Meadow and Hedgerow in Autumn

Mushrooming early on an autumn morning is perhaps the best of all expeditions if the mushrooms are there to be found.  But blackberrying too is great fun, and one can be surer of finding brambles; also, one can eat a fair share while picking.

When the harvest has been cut, the stubble fields stand wide and empty before ploughing begins.  The weeds of harvest are still blooming among the sweet-smelling straw – poppies that have escaped being cut, scarlet pimpernel, the little yellow ball-flowered hop trefoil, the knot grass and the beautiful fluellen, like a tiny creeping antirrhinum with a vivid yellow and purple flower.

The swallows and martins begin to gather for their long, dangerous flight south. The lines of dark birds whistling, fluttering, flying short distances and returning, obviously preparing for their great adventure in a state of mounting excitement, are a sight with which everyone is familiar along autumn lanes.  The willow warbler often stays later even than they, but by early October he will be gone too, taking away with him that best of all weathers, a fine September.


Over the earth  

Over the earth is a mat of green,
Over the green is dew,
Over the dew are the arching trees,
Over the trees the blue.

Across the blue are the scudding clouds,
Over the clouds the sun,
Over it all is the love of God,
Blessing us ev’ry one.

Hymn:  Guide me, O thou great Redeemer

The service then continued with a short communion lead by Ted Self

 
 
Our thanks to those who took part in the service, Alexander Hamilton, Polly Hamilton, Brian Blench, Margaret Armour, Ted Self & Kate MacDonald