From the ten inch long solid brass bulldog which also serves as a nut cracker, to the 4 foot long post-horn; every one of the 35 artefacts that bedeck the mantelpiece is a labour of love which is epitomised by black fingers and Brasso stained cloths. Yet there's a curiously gratifying pleasure that comes from polishing your brassware. A pleasure I first discovered as a child when Fred Dineage showed us all "How!" to polish old pennies using HP sauce. The most satisfying bit as a child was the fact that it didn't take long to get your coppers shiny in the old HP. Looking back now, I think-if it ate away the tarnish from copper so quickly- I wonder what it does to your insides- but at the time, we were pleased to get the dual benefit of shiny coins whilst having fingers you could lick clean - thus avoiding the dreaded soap.

Sadly it's not quite so easy to pop a copper kettle in a saucer full of the brown stuff, so the elbows have to be put to work. Of course, these days you're not obliged to do it the hard way, there are the higher tech alternatives ranging from the Duraglit wadding to the sheet of foil you drop into a bowl of hot salty water, but when push comes to shove, there's nothing that comes close to the job done by a bit of old sheet and a tin of Brasso.

But you really have got to keep on top of the job, leave a bit of brass for too long between polishes and you really do stack yourself a problem up that can't be solved with any amount of brasso and rubbing. Get in early enough, and you can redeem things with a bit of "T-Cut", but there's a point where even that's no good. This is particularly the case of course when brassware's left out in the elements.

So to the mammoth task which was presented by the knob, knocker and letterbox on our front door. They're 3 smashing bits of brass which, before Dad repainted the front door the other week, I last polished in 1990. In the intervening 10 years, these weather beaten bits of brasserie had built up a layer of tarnish of nuclear fall-0ut proof proportions. A layer so hard and thick, that a week of rubbing and ten tins of Brasso would not have made a dent in it. However I still had the answer to the problem. It has to be said that men in the Nicholls family will never tackle a job manually if you can use a power tool. We drool at the sight of a Black and Decker catalogue. Enter the power buffing mop. I still have plenty of buffing soap (Shirley very kindly got me this in 1990 from Martin and Newby- I sent her on an errand to get a piece of buffing soap the size of a bar of Palmolive- she brought me a bit the size of a gold ingot!) so I was away. None of that tiresome, smelly, polishing for me, but 750 watts of pure burnishing power. Amazing the way it slices through even the thickest layer of hardened tarnish - removes the pattern too if you get carried away. As Paul says in Hebrews:

But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness. We have come to share in Christ if we hold firmly till the end the confidence we had at first. As has just been said: "Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts

Every day we turn our backs on our Heavenly Father, our hearts get harder and harder, just like that layer of tarnish on our letter box. But even the hardest of hearts can be made to shine, through the grace our saviour Jesus Christ, who is the professional grade, kilowatt burnisher of the tarnished heart world.

the matter of utmost importance on which my most critical decision hinges is mouse mat, golfball or pen?

I knew that there would be days like these, when the burdens of running my own company would begin to weigh really heavily, where on the spot decisions can make all of the difference between success and failure. So, should it be mouse mats, golfballs or pens? You see I'm trying to decide what ad ware I should be sending to potential customers that will convey the services that we offer and also give the best indication of what a classy set up we are; whilst at the same time - and probably most crucially- being very cheap.

In the brochure I'm studying there are a plethora of pens to choose from, on all of which you can have your logo and phone number either: printed, stamped, stuck, sprayed engraved or laser etched. But they seem to fall into three categories:

Cheap and nasty: tacky brightly coloured plastic which will probably only managed a dozen words before conking out or leaking in the inside pocket of your best alpaca jacket

Very classy: all very well if you want to take the chance of paying £8.25 plus £1.25/print colour for the pen to end up in a child's pencil case (remembering you have to order at least 50).

Plain whacky: either fat as a horses leg, or triangular or... whatever but plainly impossible to write with.

Golf balls are good, provided: a) your potential customer plays golf, and they're not used for the dog to play with; and b) the potential customer is any good i.e. the balls don't all get lost in the pond at the first hole only to be recycled as "lake balls" in Indonesia.

A mouse mat could be good, because you can put lots of information on it, and it's thin and easy to post. Though they do frequently end up as overgrown placemats for the office yucca plant.

Then there are all those other things I could choose from: rulers, clocks, tee shirts, calendars...and so on. But what should I choose.

I need something simple and cheap to get my message across to the customer. Something they are going to keep and treasure so that when they need it my number will be right there for them. It needs to be something which conveys the class and quality of my company.... whilst costing as little as possible.

John's gospel (ch 17 vv20) tells us of this prayer Jesus offered to his father

"My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me...."

Jesus message, isn't tacky or cheap. It's not just for the children or something to be thrown away or simply lost. It's something that lasts, something to hold onto, and something that will always be there when you need

When we were children of course we were stupid and had no idea of danger and needed to be told not to do dangerous things. Not that that stopped us anyway, my brother and my idea of a really well spent summer holiday afternoon when we were children, was sliding on tin trays down the cinder slopes of the local railway cutting, timing things just right so that you cross the tracks after the Leicester to Skegness holiday special had passed (and not before). To us the biggest danger in this activity was Mum finding out that we'd upgraded the tin trays to the lid of her Hoover twin tub. We were righteously indignant when told off by parents and British Rail officials alike that such a pastime was dangerous- of course it wasn't, we were in control of our trays at all times. Well of course it was. I know that now. But I do feel very righteously indignant when told by a thirteen year old child of a pool attendant that it's too dangerous to dive into two metres - yes that's six foot six inches in real money - of water. ".... And what sort of parent was I that I should encourage my children to do the same!". Don't make me laugh.

Having escalated my complaint to the fifteen year old manager of our local swimming pool, it seems that they are only implementing a policy enforced on them by their insurers, all a result of the increasingly litigious society that we live iny. Yes you really can do the most stupid things in the world, totally out of your own choice and will, and then not only blame someone else for your own stupidity, but also take away their living because they didn't have the foresight to prevent you from doing it. Even so a recent case proves that, even though every swimming pool in the land universally prohibits diving, it is still possible to wilfully poleaxe yourself in the toddlers paddling pool and sue the hide off the council. Ho-hum. In Luke 8 we read:

One day Jesus said to his disciples, "Let's go over to the other side of the lake." So they got into a boat and set out. As they sailed, he fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger. The disciples went and woke him, saying, "Master, Master, we're going to drown!" He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm. "Where is your faith?" he asked his disciples. In fear and amazement they asked one another, "Who is this? He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him."

Would a twenty first century JC have sent for his lawyer instead to gain recompense for the damage caused to his enjoyment of the trip and the trauma suffered by his disciples who would have undoubtedly required counselling. I think not. OUR lives are in our own hands, we alone and no-one else is responsible for the choices we make and the things we do. It's up to us to live - and die - with the consequences of those choices.

Well most of the small "branchy" stuff was removed immediately, but weeks and months have passed with the big trunks sitting uncollected on our front lawn. Now we don't burn firewood so were keen to get rid of this pile, but we know lots of people who do, including some at our church. So I mentioned to them that there was years of burning wood to be had FOR FREE- all they had to do was collect it. Now some of these people were interested enough to come and look, but when they discovered that they were tree trunk diameter pieces 12" high they all rapidly lost interest "there's too much work left in that". Now every week (it seems like every week but it's probably once a month) the Jehovah's witnesses called to deliver the watchtower. I'm very friendly with them - which is why I suppose they keep coming back- and we share some banter and invite each other to our respective churches knowing the other won't take up the offer. Well this week Shirley and I were working in the front garden when they arrived, and happen to point out the huge pile of tree trunks, and asked if they knew anyone who burnt wood. Since then a steady trail of "brothers and sisters" from the Kingdom Hall had arrived and taken away a log at a time.

God makes us a free offer of warmth for life. All we have to do is accept the offer. Now it's not totally free because there's still some work left to do- an the only person who can do that for us is ourselves. But so many of us just don't want to put the effort in. It's all too much like hard work. The choice is ours, but we've got to be ready to do our own work to turn those logs of redemption into a burning fire of faith in our own hearts.

There's just one piece left so if you want it you'd better hurry!