Digital Editor’s Note: I’m excited and proud to welcome Rob Allwright as a Guest Writer here at the Sorted Magazine website. Rob brings a wealth of experience and is one of the most respected Christian reviewers in the UK. The energy Rob devotes to supporting and encouraging Christian creatives is staggering. His review show One Man In The Middle is broadcast by Branch FM, Heartsong Live and Hope FM. And I’m just a teensy bit excited that he has joined the wonderful peeps at the Manchester based broadcaster Konnect Radio!
Rob writes: For those who love their Christmas music with a touch of class then you need look no further than this classic album from All Souls Orchestra in London. Marked as Prom Praise Celebrates Christmas this album takes you on a classical journey through instrumentals of some of the best loved Christmas Carols and songs. Arranged and conducted by Dr Noel Tredinnick this album captures a great crisp orchestral sound which will bring a warm glow to any room where it is played!
The first track A Christmas Festival is a bit of a medley of many different Christmas songs brilliantly wrapped up together in one brilliant piece of music and you can’t help but be swept into the Christmas spirit with this. While this is one piece of music it brilliantly captures the different elements of the various songs included here, there is time to dwell in a couple of parts before you are swept along to something else. This first track is just under seven minutes long and it really flies past! The second track also takes pieces from some of the more majestic sounding Christmas hymns. In The Bleak Midwinter, O Come All Ye Faithful, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen and others are blended together to become A Christmas Overture.
The next track is Silent Night which, when it comes to Carols is many people’s favourite. They have certainly done it justice with this version as there is a little prelude before the Cello’s come in with the main harmony and slowly other areas of the orchestra work their way into the familiar tune. It was intended that these versions of the songs would be an excellent backdrop for the Christmas season, but additionally they should be music that could be sung to as well if that is something you wanted to do. With these tracks that are well known they have kept the arrangements relatively straight forward, with a bit of an intricate introduction and then into the main body of the music. There are some rather grand openings, such as the amazing organ opening up It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.
Along with the classics and the medleys there are some less well known tracks, including From The Squalor Of A Borrowed Stable by Stuart Townend which has never really broken out of the church in the way that it should have done, because it is a truly beautiful song. A track that I am not terribly familiar with is Overture: Hansel and Gretel originally composed by Engelbert Humperdinck which is included on this album and shows that this orchestra aren’t afraid to take on something a little more rare and challenging. The last medley on the album is the A Festival of Carols which combines another whole load of well known tunes starting with Hark, The Herald Angels Sing these even re-cover some ground with different interpretations of some carols that have appeared previously.
This may not be the most high-brow of orchestra’s but I think that they have done a great job with these arrangements to bring these carols to life as instrumentals. These could easily play in the background throughout the whole of the Christmas period, through dinner parties, family gatherings and more, additionally they could be used for a little bit of Carol worship too for small groups or personal worship. I’m not a big orchestral or classical music fan but I really enjoyed these and appreciate the talent from every member of the orchestra.
Digital Editor’s Note:Christmas at the Movies is a close-up view of ten of J.John’s favourite Christmas movies and his festive reflections on them. Each chapter in this new book brings a fresh perspective, covering topics such as family relationships, living with regret, the pressures of the ‘perfect Christmas’, and the true reason for the season. Today’s post is an extract from the book.
J. John writes:It’s a Wonderful Life follows the life of George Bailey, born and raised in the typical American small town of Bedford Falls. But he is someone with ambition and imagination who wants to escape, to travel and to achieve something. Those dreams, however, never materialise. George’s commitment to his family and, above all, to his community, means that he spends decades stuck in the town without the obvious visible achievements that his friends and family acquire. He is a man whose selfless willingness to do little things for others has prevented him from doing big things for himself.
One Christmas Eve George’s frustration comes to a head with a financial crisis that threatens to send him to prison. In a fit of angry despair, he goes out to commit suicide. At this point his guardian angel intervenes and, in a nightmarish vision, shows him what his community and those he loves would have been like if he hadn’t existed. In the face of this revelation George realises that his life has indeed been wonderful.
There is much to think about in It’s a Wonderful Life but perhaps its biggest lesson lies in how we evaluate what we have done. Society has always celebrated the visible attainments of wealth, power and fame but never more so than today. We are all inclined to measure ourselves by our number of friends (real or virtual), our job title, our bank balance or the size of our house. God, however, operates on a very different basis and so should we.
Looking back this Christmas you may, like George Bailey, reflect on your life and think that actually you haven’t done very much. That may very well be you assessing things by the wrong standards. It’s worth remembering that what God values most of all is faithfulness, kindness, generosity and obedience. Let’s be more focused on what we can do for others and less on what we can get for ourselves. The lesson of It’s a Wonderful Life is that it’s not what you achieve or have that counts, but it’s who you are.
Digital Editor’s Note:Wonder: An Advent and Christmas Collection is a profound and often humorous collection of reflections, monologues, poetry, sermons and sketches. In this new book Rev Andy March invites us, whether we’re lifelong Christians or new to faith, to take a fresh look at this world-changing story and become lost in wonder once again. I’m delighted to welcome Andy as today’s Guest Writer. Look out for extracts from his book during the month of December.
Rev Andy March writes: “I love Christmas. I think I look forward to it almost as much as my children. I love almost everything about it, the cheesy music; the lights that illuminate the dark December streets; the carol services and nativity plays; the carols and Bible readings; going to church at really strange times of the night; the Christmas trees and decorations … I could go on. I love telling stories, particularly Bible stories, and finding ways for these timeless and ancient truths to hit home today, whether for a hall full of schoolchildren, an all-age congregation, or occasional visitors to church at carol services. If I can find a different way to convey essential truths, I will, even if it involves looking silly (which it often has, as I’ve dressed up as angels, wise men and even adorned donkey ears, much to the embarrassment of my children!).
Wonder: An Advent and Christmas Collection is the fusion of these two passions and the result of a decade or so of my work in Church of England parish ministry. Most of these pieces have been written for church all-age and carol services as well as “ordinary” Sundays, and school services. They were written to be read aloud and performed, so you may want to try this yourself!
Whether you’re someone looking for fresh inspiration as you plan your own services, or a Christian looking for something to inspire your own worship and devotion, I hope this book is a blessing to you.
Wonder: An Advent and Christmas Collection is not designed to be read front-to-back like a novel. I see it more as a selection box to be dipped into and enjoyed! The stories are gathered into four parts:
Part One: Telling the story A collection of monologues and sketches that seek to tell the familiar story in a new way, often from the perspective of the characters involved. These would be perfect for use in services and would work as stand-alone pieces.
Part Two: Proclaiming Good News – the message of Advent and Christmas This includes sermons I have preached over the years. The “Carols by Candlelight” sermons try to reflect the year’s events in some way and link it to a particular aspect of the Good News of Christmas.
Part Three: Responding to the Story Poetry, which often forms my personal expression of worship in this season. My greatest challenge as a “professional Christian” is that I can be so focused on communicating the Good News to others that I fail to appreciate its meaning for myself. These poems flow from those times when I stop, reflect and worship.
Part Four: Reflecting on the Story An Advent and Christmas devotional that starts on December 1st and ends on January 6th, containing Bible verses I selected and reflections I wrote on Twitter. You may want to use this to accompany your own devotions, perhaps at the end of the day.
In the foreword Andy Kind, Comedian and Author writes: “The joy of writing, when you shake off the norms and the preconceived, is that really you can write whatever you want to. “Unclassified” isn’t a low grade – it’s a sign of pioneering out-of-the-boxmanship. Andy March has done that with this book. Having preached at his church, I’ve seen first-hand Andy’s commitment to people and kingdom ideas, telling the old, old story in new and innovative ways. This new work is the fruit of Andy’s labours working “in the trenches” of local church. It drips with experience, wit and wisdom – an impressive addition to his growing output and legacy. For devotion and inspiration, via his own perspiration, here you’ll find a one-stop shop for Christmas word feasting. An advent calendar of tasty word; a buffet of delectable sound bites. Don’t get too fat, now, will you?”
Throughout the UK lockdowns, I often spent my evenings lying down in the house – trusting in God’s care. Suspended in that strange season, I buried my nose in more books, consumed more online productions and viewed more TV than ever before.
Now as the night’s draw in and a new sofa season is rapidly approaching, I sense broadcasters tempting me with their creative offerings once again. But before I recline with the remote, let me tell you what the telly has taught me about God:
Visualising Deconstruction:The Repair Shop (BBC)
Observing the skilled experts of The Repair Shop thoughtfully assess, lovingly deconstruct and carefully conserve all manner of precious family heirlooms is quite something. With patience and courage, they undertake the lengthy surgical deconstruction process. They remove every single shard of rust, every fleck of baked on glue, varnish, paint, oil or grime. All carefully executed without inflicting further damage on the already fragile artefact. Every trace of these ancient contaminants must be removed as they hold the potential to undermine the strength, structure and function of the object. Original materials which have been lost to the sands of time, or become too delicate, are either replicated or reinforced.
The BBC team is eager, excited and engaged. Its conservation work generates joy. Watching the individuals at work, wholly immersed in a dedicated campaign of total restoration, forges a deeper understanding of how my Heavenly Father is at work in me. I’ve learned that God too is a cheerful, diligent craftsman who delights in the work of His hands. Every aspect of my life is being lovingly restored by Him.
Understanding Bounded spaces:Gardeners’ World (BBC)
Watching expert gardener, Monty Don, working in his own garden is an exercise in both beauty and peril. His garden, Long Meadow, seems idyllic. There is shade and sun; friendly dogs; a writing garden; a cosy shed. It’s worth noting that this garden, as in the *garden of Eden described in the Bible’s Book of Genesis, is a bounded space.
I’ve thought a lot about bounded spaces lately. This is mostly down to Walter. He lives under my neighbour’s shed. I kid you not. Walter the Weasel is furry, cute and deadly. A cunning agent of chaos and destruction. A vicious predator, Walter can easily kill a creature twice his own size. Lately he has begun chewing holes in the base of the boundary fence, sneaking in, and helping himself to the unsuspecting bird life in my garden. I’m not happy about the vandalised fence and the slaughtered birds. If the holes are blocked up he chews a new one. Walter can be held at bay but he can’t be kept out.
Much human effort goes into creating bounded spaces of both the physical and abstract variety. In our primal quest for safety and certainty, our guts instinctively communicate that there’s something that needs to be kept out. So we build boxes. And bigger boxes. We build businesses. And we build belief systems. But here’s the thing, even the sagely Monty Don is unable to keep agents of destruction out of his bounded spaces. He can only hold them at bay. Sometimes pests and pestilence utterly destroy the plant he’s nurturing, invoking an inner savage with the secateurs.
And if God’s perfect garden, a holy bounded space, was breached (by design or default) by an agent of chaos and destruction (a snake) what chance have I against such foes? I’ve learned that no matter how secure my bounded physical or abstract spaces seem, my perimeters are permeable. Metaphorical weasels may be held at bay, but because weasels are so very weasely, they will surely weasel their way in. I need not fear them; they’re not dragons; they’re just weasels. I must expect them. I must not let them blow me off course. I must stand against them. It would be naïve of me to think otherwise.
Valuing Journalism:Endeavour (ITV)
The dynamics between journalism and law enforcement can be tense.
In the fictional crime drama, Endeavour, the tension is mostly played out between two central characters. Newspaper editor, Dorothea Frazil, (Abigail Thaw) works to pursue and publish the truth. DC Endeavour Morse (Shaun Evans) works to prosecute the perpetrator. Both strive to hold the powerful to account, both play their respective parts as citizens in a nation under law. Nowadays journalists and ‘the media’ are frequently despised and subjected to considerable criticism. I’m often disheartened by this, but when I study Abigail Thaw’s character it renews my hope in the value of good journalism. Through her, God reminds me that He’s in the business of recruiting outliers to become scribes, prophets, truth-tellers and jobbing journalists. I think God gets behind writers, and the act of writing, because it’s one of the ways He brings things into the light and gives a voice to the voiceless.
Experiencing Gratitude:The Victoria Slum (BBC)
This fly-on-the-wall series follows a group of modern people transported to a replica Victorian slum deep in the bowels of London’s East End. I expected to be more prepared for the scummy horrors of slum dwelling. My personal narrative casts me as an unspoilt, humble, working-class northerner. But while viewing this series God revealed a shed full of muttering ingratitude, generously daubed with a splodge of low-level resentment. God insisted that I let this go. And so I did. Now I’m grateful that I grew up with a freezing brick privy at the end of our yard because it was private. I’m grateful for that terraced house because it wasn’t occupied by the whole street. I’m grateful for that cold bed because I didn’t have to share it. I’m grateful for that hand-me-down doll because I could play instead of work. I’m grateful for that wafer-thin slice of Hovis bread because I got one every day. I’m grateful that I was the last child dunked into that shared weekly bathwater, because it was clean(ish) and warm(ish). I’m grateful for my ancestors, who grafted in mines and mills because their past investment rewarded me with a future. I’m grateful to my Heavenly Father, more than ever before, because he has revealed more of His goodness towards me.
Closing thoughts…
As the liberty and liveliness of summer gives way to the warm embrace of autumn, consider the leaves changing and falling. Observe the drifting clouds; slow your thoughts down to the subtle speed of the sky; and watch as night gently falls. Though dark evenings will soon envelop us, God can communicate through the stillness, if we’re open to hearing from Him.
If you do only one thing, Allow yourself to lie down in the evening, and be open to receiving God’s care for you.
Main Photo Credit: Glenn Carstens-Peters via Unsplash
On the 27th August this year, I stood, with my two ‘Team Wolfpack’ team mates, David Clement and Rich O’Connor, in the cold, pouring rain, in Chamonix on the start line of the UTMB PTL, arguably one of the hardest sporting challenges on the planet. Ahead awaited 311km of Alpine wilderness, and a lot of climbing. Twenty-five thousand metres (82,000 ft) of ascent to be precise. That’s about the same as climbing Everest from sea level – three times.
It had been a long journey to get here. For most of my life I had played football; when I started spending more time on the bench than on the pitch, I decided to explore the world of ultra endurance.
This journey started with an Ironman triathlon, but I soon discovered I didn’t like swimming and wasn’t competitive on a bike. Thus, the transition into ultra running. Ultra running is classed as any distance longer than a 26-mile marathon, although, these days, 50 miles plus is probably more ‘ultra’ territory.
My first ultra was called The Oner, a 76-mile run along the Dorset coastal path. A beautiful race, but, to be honest, all I remember was pain and suffering. I finished hours behind the winner, in awe of how someone could run so far, so fast. Bizarrely, I was hooked. I loved the adventure, extreme challenge and unpredictability of this sport and I wanted to know where my limits were. I also discovered that pain and suffering are actually at the heart of all ultras and it’s only when these two friends arrive that the racing really begins.
Resilience, rather than athletic prowess, is what makes the difference. Literally, when the going gets tough, the tough get going.
Other races and challenges were gradually added to my ultra CV: the UTMB, a non-stop mountain race with 10,000m of ascent, the Western States Endurance Run in California (100 miles long), the Bob Graham Round (42 Lake District peaks in 24 hours), the Haute Route (ski traverse of the high Alps in Winter) and also the legendary Marathon Des Sables (MdS).
The MdS has the debatable title as the ‘Toughest Race on Earth’ and it was my first multi-stage race – 250 km across the Sahara Desert. It is brutal.
Running in temperatures of up to 50 degrees across a desert for six days, carrying all your food and kit except for water and a tent, is an extreme challenge. Each day ends at the bivouac, where you share a tent with seven other runners. The camp is very basic (I ‘slept’ on the stony floor after losing my sleeping mat when a whirlwind came through the camp on the first evening) and is taken down each morning and rebuilt at the end of the day’s stage. Each day gets tougher as the miles, injury niggles, reduced calories and lack of sleep start to take their toll.
The fourth stage is the dreaded Long Stage. On that particular morning I woke up sick from heat stroke from the previous day, when I had overcooked it in my attempt to qualify in the Elite category. I was too sick to eat properly but managed, taking about 15 minutes, to eat half a plastic cup of porridge before curling up in the foetal position in my tent, sweating with nausea and waiting for the race to start. Had I been at home I would have been too ill to go to work, but yet I had 56 miles of sand, searing heat and a vicious headwind to look forward to.
I knew it was going to be an utterly miserable day, but I also knew from experience that if I could just keep putting one foot in front of the other, it would be all over in 12 hours. I wasn’t wrong.
Overall, the MdS was an experience of a lifetime – with the highlight being the friendships built with my tent mates. They were an incredible group with exceptional positivity, grit, mental fortitude, talent, character and humour. Everyone looked out for each other and I benefited hugely from the strength that can be drawn from such company.
Surprisingly, despite my gastric issues, I managed one of my best results, finishing 33rd overall out of 1,330 runners and second in the 50+ age category.
These races all served as a continuing apprenticeship which brought me, this August, to the damp start line of the PTL – ‘La Petite Trotte à Leon’. It is the first and longest of the UTMB (Ultra Trail Mont Blanc) series of races, based in Chamonix, in the French Alps, each summer. Translated as ‘Leon’s Little Walk’ – the name reflects the mindset of the organisers who each year plan a route as remote, challenging and adventurous as they can conceive within ‘acceptable’ danger limits.
Due to its extreme nature, this is a team event, maximum three members. If team mates drop out, continuing alone is not permitted, which explains why this was now my third attempt. The maximum time allowed is six and a half days, and on the previous attempt my final teammate dropped out after five and a half days. Close, but no finisher’s cowbell.
This year, as we left the cheering crowd in Chamonix we were immediately climbing steeply and soon discovered that above 2,000m it was snowing. Fresh snow, rocks and trail-running shoes are never a good combination and, almost immediately, on one particularly tricky section, the two runners directly in front of me lost their footing and slipped a hundred feet down a steep rocky scree slope. They both survived their fall, but it was definitely time to focus – and put our crampons on!
The best word I can think of to describe the difficulty of this race is ‘unimaginable’. Testimony to this is that a quarter of the teams abandoned the race in the first 24 hours. These were all experienced mountain ultra runners who had not imagined how hard things were going to get on just the first day and, clearly, repeating this experience another five and a half times was not desirable.
The first day began at 8.00am and, for us, finished at 3.30am the following morning after 65km of climbing at high altitude in miserable conditions, with only one 45-minute refuelling stop. At the end of this journey was a hot pasta meal in a remote mountain refuge and an hour’s lie down, where I slept for about half an hour before being kicked out to make room for other arriving runners. At this point, day two started.
Due to the distances and terrain that need to be covered each day, sleep has to be sacrificed. I slept less than six hours total in the whole week and by day three, sleepwalking and hallucinations became a daily occurrence. I knew my hallucinations were starting when I started hearing ice-cream van music playing up in the mountains. Before long, every rock seemed to have a face, and I kept seeing pictures of fairytale characters on the trail. Approaching one particularly dangerous section, we had been falling asleep on our feet with such regularity that we had to take a 15-minute power nap to snap us back into clarity. As we were up at 2,500m, in the middle of the night, it was too cold to stop any longer than that. There was nowhere to lie down, so I had to wedge myself upright between two huge boulders to sleep.
By the third day, the rain and snow stopped and the sun came out. The plus was that we could now enjoy the stunning wilderness through which we moved. It was also the low point of the race: Rich, one of our team, called it a day when the altitude, sleep deprivation and an injured ankle were combining to affect his balance and making progress dangerous. David and I continued on.
Also, moving had become more painful due to blisters caused from days of wet feet. Sore feet would be a constant companion for the rest of the race. On the last day my feet were so bad that when we had 22km to the finish line I found myself calculating how many more steps I could endure. I reckoned 44,000 steps would do it.
One unexpected feature of the race was joy. Pure joy. Endurance competitors often speak of being broken by the experience. For me, I was repaired. The immense difficulty of this race focuses your mind on the truly important. Not once did I think about work, the mortgage or interest rates. All that mattered was to keep moving forward and my mind was free to dwell on my wife, kids, family, friends and faith. I was blown away by the love and support from friends back in the UK and, every day, I would find myself laughing and weeping, at the same time, from the overflowing joy of feeling truly blessed and alive.
I know it’s only a race, but finishing the PTL after two failed attempts was, without a doubt, one of my life highlights. David and I ran hard for the last four miles, determined to finish strong, no matter how I’d felt five hours earlier when I was counting my remaining steps. After days up in the remote mountains it seemed strange to see so many people again. The streets of Chamonix were busy with cheering crowds and friends and family and the final tearful sprint to the finish line, joined by my wife, Nicky, was a perfect end to an incredible adventure. And, at last, I had my finisher’s cowbell.
A few years ago, a friend asked what was it that kept me going when others stopped. I didn’t have a clear answer, although I did know, and anyone who has seen me swimming in cold water will confirm, it wasn’t because I was naturally tough.
This led me to start listing the factors that contribute to strengthening my resilience. I soon observed that none of these factors were fixed traits; none were unique to me, and all could be developed. I am convinced that we are all capable of strengthening our resilience, whether we are crosssing mountains or running a family or a business.
Over time, I’ve started to receive more and more invitations to speak about my adventures and the ‘Secrets to Living a Resilient Life’ to businesses, schools, colleges, church groups, men’s groups and sports clubs.
I have a passion to share what I have learned, to help others keep running in life’s race when the temptation to start walking – or to give up completely – is so strong. It’s a heartbreaking statistic that around 80 men a day take their own lives in the UK and sadly, to quote Thoreau, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”.
In ultra endurance events, the difference between those who succeed and those who don’t is simply the ability to keep going. I believe that there are steps that we can all take to help us build our resilience, run a stronger race, live more passionate, purposeful lives – and never give up.
Andrew uses the lessons learned from his adventures in his work as a motivational speaker, to help others learn to become more resilient; to keep going when the going gets tough. To contact Andrew about a speaking engagement, call 07950 822801 or visit andrew-findley.com
Alfa Romeo has finally entered the SUV market with the Tonale – a crossover aiming to take on the likes of BMW’s X1 or Audi’s Q3.
Its personality seems contradictory, with an aggressive front end coupled with a contrasting friendlier, rounded style at the side, while the rear features a cool lightbar that spans the bodywork.
Alfa Romeo has high hopes for the Tonale, believing it will soon be its most popular model, so there’s quite a lot hinging on its success.
Two four-cylinder turbocharged petrol powertrains are offered in the form of a front-wheel drive 1.5-litre mild hybrid producing 160PSwith a seven-speed automatic. Meanwhile, the 280PS plug-in hybrid (PHEV), driven here, offers all-wheel drive from its 1.3-litre engine, which is hooked up to a six-speed automatic ‘box.
A generous amount of equipment is offered, with the entry-level Ti trim getting 18-inch alloys, a 10.25-inch infotainment touchscreen with SatNav, DAB radio, Apple CarPlay, Android Auto and voice control provided by Amazon Alexa.
It also gets a 12.3-inch digital instrument screen, wireless phone charger, rain-sensing wipers, gloss black painted body kit, dual-zone air conditioning and keyless go. A leather sports steering wheel, an automatic tailgate and an electrically adjustable driver’s seat with lumbar support also form part of the package.
The mid-range grade under review gets 19-inch rims, red-painted brake callipers, privacy glass, adaptive suspension, aluminium gearshift paddles and plenty of additional styling touches.
The Edizione Speciale trim is marketed as the top-of-the-range model. Yet, it is the cheapest version, primarily based on the Ti trim, adding 20-inch alloys, a prominent exhaust and aluminium door sills, plus other styling elements.
On the road, the Tonale PHEV deals with 0-62mph in 6.2 seconds, which isn’t bad for an SUV. The mild-hybrid, by comparison, takes 8.8 seconds to do the same.
The PHEV makes excellent progress, moving swiftly off the line thanks to the instant torque provided by the electric motor – and it’s untroubled at any speed.
The 280PS on tap provides effortless acceleration. However, when flooring the throttle, the gearbox can be more hesitant to change down versus the mild hybrid, as the PHEV tends to seek power from the electric motor first, only changing down if it needs to.
While the mild hybrid feels more instantaneous in that respect, the PHEV easily outmuscles it, which will likely placate Alfa die-hards disappointed only to have a choice of hybrid powertrains.
The Tonale is surprisingly agile around corners for an SUV, limiting body lean in bends and feeling far lighter than its nearly two-tonne kerb weight suggests.
The mild hybrid feels even better because it carries 310kg less bulk, but the PHEV is still the pick of the bunch given its economy figures, which I’ll come on to shortly.
The feedback through the steering wheel is limited, but the wheel does firm up at speed around corners, and there are three driving modes which impact its firmness, along with adjusting other characteristics of the car.
As a result of its enthusiastic handling, it’s by no means the best in class for comfort, but even with larger alloys, it’s certainly not bad. This is likely helped by the DSV adaptive suspension on the Veloce trim, which improves the ride. Unfortunately, this feature isn’t available on the Ti trim, but the Ti’s smaller wheels somewhat offset its loss.
The PHEV has a 15.5kWh battery, which can be fully charged from empty in around two-and-a-half hours from a 7.4kW home wall box. However, it won’t charge any faster, even if you’re using a public charging facility capable of much higher speeds.
The Tonale PHEV’s all-electric range is 42 miles, and it’ll manage 217mpg, with CO2 emissions of just 29-33g/km. These figures make it a reasonably attractive proposition for company car users due to the low Benefit in Kind tax. Meanwhile, the mild hybrid manages 49mpg, producing 130-142g/km of CO2.
You also get a three-year unlimited-mileage warranty. What’s more, Alfa has entered the crypto world with NFTs (non-fungible tokens) to record things like servicing and ownership history, making the car’s records impossible to forge.
The Tonale’s interior is refined, but it isn’t awe-inspiring, falling slightly short of the wow factor you might expect from an enthusiastic Italian manufacturer. Don’t get me wrong; the Alfa still has some lovely touches, such as circular air vents and a rounded dashboard top above the instruments.
The infotainment screen is pleasing to use, offering an intuitively straightforward menu layout. However, there’s no rotary dial, as seen in some other Alfa Romeos, while the shortcut buttons next to the screen are so small they risk distracting you from the road ahead to work out what you’re pressing.
The air conditioning controls are still physical buttons, thankfully, while the instrument screen is informative and customisable, too.
The driving position feels quite low-down, but Alfa Romeo has pulled off a neat trick by mounting the dashboard slightly higher up, giving you the illusion of feeling closer to the ground.
There is a bunch of space in both the front and the back, although the legroom is a tad more limited in the rear. The headroom should be plentiful unless you’re well over six feet tall.
Thanks to the shape of the rear side windows, the back pillars are very bulky, restricting visibility. Still, parking sensors are offered on all models as standard, along with a rear-view camera, which can be upgraded to a 360-degree camera by choosing one of several upgrade packs provided as optional extras.
Storage space in the cabin is generous, too, although the door bins could be more accommodating.
The PHEV’s boot only offers 385 litres of space, 115 litres less than the mild hybrid, increasing to 1,430 litres with the rear seats folded down in a 60/40 configuration.
The Tonale earned a five-star safety rating from Euro NCAP, along with an 83% score for adults, 85% for children and 85% for safety assists, which include automatic emergency braking, forward collision warning and lane support system.
You also get intelligent adaptive cruise control, drowsy driver detection, a tyre pressure monitoring system, traffic sign recognition and intelligent speed assist as standard on all models. Optional extras add even more, including Level 2 autonomous driving features.
Overall, the Alfa Romero Tonale has plenty going in its favour.
The Italian SUV is generously equipped as standard, meaning upgrading to the Veloce trim is likely unnecessary. Furthermore, it retains a firm but reasonable level of ride comfort and excellent performance alongside superb economy figures.
Fast Facts – Alfa Romeo Tonale [1.3 PHEV 280 Auto Q4 Veloce trim] as tested:
Max speed: 128mph
0-62 mph: 6.2-secs
Fuel economy: 217mpg
Engine layout: 1.3-litre turbocharged petrol engine with electric motor
For the last year and a half, Steve and I had been navigating a world of hospitals, surgeries, and treatments for cancer. It had been relentless and, more than anything, we needed to get away – to not think about scan results, side effects, or next steps. We needed some time together, the great outdoors and even greater food. So, when the opportunity for a mini-break in a finely catered chalet in the beautiful alpine village of Morzine came, we leapt at it and booked the flights.
That said, this getaway needs some context. Steve has never skied, and despite being allowed to travel wasn’t really in a fit state to start learning. I am a peculiar skier – technically proficient but terrified of heights, a weird combination that can see me take a wrong turn down a perfectly traversable slope where I can “see too far” (I know, stupid) and end up trembling on the edge of the piste, unable to turn and considering whether I should just take off my skis and walk, or settle in and wait for frostbite and hypothermia to take me. Up till now, I had taken our kids on budget ski trips whilst Steve stayed home and ate all the food I disapprove of in my absence.
All to say, a late-season ski holiday was not an obvious choice for Mr and Mrs Legg. It was, however, the option in front of us and to be honest the offer of a roaring fire with canapés and a home-cooked dinner was all we needed to hear. This was to be no ordinary skiing holiday. We were travelling to Chilly Powder, a family run hotel where guests are treated as an extension of the family. From the moment you arrive, everything is taken care of. The team (I hesitate to call them staff) introduce themselves by name and show genuine interest not just in your stay but in you.
Within minutes of arriving, they had arranged for a mobile ski company, Doorstep Skis, to arrive, measure my feet and kit me out for the next day. Everything was stored in the garage and the boots were kept in a warm room. It couldn’t have been easier.
We arrived early evening after an hour’s transfer from the airport. Dinner was being served. This is where the extended family feel of Chilly Powder really kicks in: meals are served in community. Guests gather around the fire at 7.30pm for canapes and a drink, and then take their places together on large dining tables. Truthfully, we weren’t entirely sure what we thought about this before we arrived. A combination of shyness and just needing some space left us a little apprehensive about sitting down with people we didn’t know, but actually, dinner turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip.
There were around 20 adults staying and we met such a wonderful array of people it meant that our conversations were rich and varied. We were the only guests who had never been before and it was clear that this warm and welcoming hotel was a place that people revisit. Each couple we met had a different story of how they had discovered Chilly Powder and why they now wouldn’t go anywhere else, or how they had brought friends to share in their discovery.
For some, the joy was in the childcare. Chilly Powder welcomes children as warmly as it does adults; it runs a crèche and helps the older children access ski school. Steve and I were often in earlier than the others and saw the kids being taken out for crêpes or to play in the park before being brought home in time for tea.
For everyone, a key draw was the location. Chilly Powder is a 5-minute walk, even in ski boots, from the bottom of the Les Prodain Express. This super-fast lift whisks you up to 1,800m to find the vast ski slopes of Avoriaz. Avoriaz itself is one of the best entry points to the Pistes du Soleil, considered to be the largest connected ski area in the world: 12 resorts and more than 600km of pistes. From here, everything is accessible: beginner slopes, a World Cup downhill run, hiking trails, beautifully groomed slopes and hair-raising off-piste action (the Swiss Wall – something I didn’t even begin to contemplate!). You can even ski into Switzerland.
And you can ski home. No long uncomfortable bus rides with skis digging into your neck and your boots wedged under a seat, no long slog at the end of the day; you can literally ski into the garden, where the hot tub awaits. No wonder people go back.
So, how did this decidedly trepid couple manage on a skiing holiday? Good question. We did get up slowly and enjoy a leisurely breakfast, we did explore the town of Morzine and find more places to eat. But, we also took the fast lift to Avoriaz to enjoy the snow.
Avoriaz itself is a delight. Perched on the edge of a ravine, in the winter season it is a no-car zone and instead has a fleet of horse-drawn sleighs acting as taxis. To get anywhere you ski, take a lift or relive your childhood fantasy with jingling bells thrown in. It’s a proper winter wonderland.
Across the piste from the top of Les Prodains Express is a restaurant and bar (La Tanière) with swathes of outside tables and deckchairs facing out over the valley of Les Prodains and a great set of green, blue, and red runs. It was perfect. We crossed the piste, chose a seat, ordered a coffee, applied the sunscreen and, when I felt brave, I went off to explore, leaving Steve in the sunshine with a book.
He was happy; I was nervous, but swiftly discovered that the resort is cautious with its grading of slopes. I grew in confidence that even red slopes would be manageable and that so long as I stayed within the bowl of the mountain in front of me, my vertigo wouldn’t kick in.
It was joyous, and warm – unseasonably so. One day the temperature rose to nearly 20 degrees which left me wilting in my ski gear and Steve sitting in a tee shirt sipping a beer. But the snow was good. At the bottom of the slopes it was slushy, right down in Morzine it was more grass than snow, but the beauty of being in such a vast collection of resorts was that there was always a slope in the shade and a lift above the freezing line.
Another day I set out for another section of the mountain – and discovered a range of gentle pistes with stunning views. These would never scare me and instead I practised my parallel turns, toyed with carving, but mostly just enjoyed going on a really good journey and not just repeating the same runs. These pistes could have connected me with Morzine, Les Gets or Montriond, but, wanting to actually spend time with my husband, I didn’t stray too far.
There are walking trails here too, that in another year we might have explored in snowshoes and together taken in the views. The kind of trails I like; walking downhill and catching a lift back to the top to a welcoming bar.
But not this year. This was a year for being gentle, enjoying each other’s company, and taking in the beauty the world has to offer. Chilly Powder gave us just that. We were able to sit back and relax, to let other people take care of us and to explore at our own pace. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
Chilly Powder operates all year round, so it’s perfect whether you’re looking to hit the ski slopes or hop on your mountain bike. There are extensive winter holiday packages on offer for individuals, groups and families with winter prices starting from €995 per person per week based on two adults sharing a double or twin bedroom or €2,760 per week for two adults and two children sharing a standard family room. Prices based on a half board basis with wine included in evening meals.
Childcare facilities are also available with prices starting at €315 per week and ski school for €295 per week. The chalet also offers self-catered and B&B options in both summer and winter, and is available for weddings and events.
To learn more or to making a booking, contact Chilly Powder on info@chillypowder.com or 020 7289 6958 or visit chillypowder.com
Rt Rev Rose Hudson-Wilkin, Bishop of Dover has joined with campaigners around the world to pray for the rubbish problem which is blighting communities living in poverty.
The special downloadable prayer video<https://vimeo.com/865999979> is for international development charity Tearfund’s Rubbish Campaign Week of Prayer and Action which takes place from Monday, October 30th until Sunday, November 5th 2023.
The week comes ahead of the next round of negotiations for the first ever UN treaty on plastic pollution. Tearfund staff and activists will be at the talks in Kenya to make sure that the voices of waste pickers and people living in poverty are heard.
Around the world, one in four people have no safe way to dispose of rubbish, meaning many are forced to live and work among piles of waste. This is making people sick, releasing toxic fumes, flooding communities and causing up to a million deaths each year, that’s one person dying every 30 seconds.
Photo Credit: Antoine Giret via Unsplash
Bishop Rose said: “Our world is in a mess in so many ways. Among other man-made problems, we’re facing mountains of plastic pollution and our addiction to single-use plastics is only making it worse. But Jesus told his followers that even the smallest amount of faith can move mountains.
“Join me and a global movement of Christians, from the UK to Australia, New Zealand to Zambia, in praying for the UN plastic treaty talks and bringing an end to this rubbish problem.”
Tearfund is encouraging churches and individuals to check out their free resources including a prayer video, prayer guide and even daily texts to pray for those most affected by the plastic crisis. Visit www.tearfund.org/weekofprayer<http://www.tearfund.org/weekofprayer> for more information.
Photo above: Rt Rev Rose Hudson-Wilkin, Bishop of Dover
Digital Editor’s note: I’m very pleased to welcome today’s Guest WriterDon Esson. Don is Director of Partnerships and Development for Spurgeons Children’s Charity, publishers of Dad.info. In this article Don opens up about some of his deeply personal experiences, insights and understanding of parenting and mental health.
Don writes: ‘Toxic masculinity’ can have a direct link to mental health among men. As a society we’re all too familiar with this negative term that is used to package up everything men are supposed to avoid. Yet, is there a baby and bathwater moment where we are removing the very thing that makes men, well men?
The real issue is that society hasn’t addressed what standards and attitudes men should strive towards, or in other words, positive masculinity. As the statistics reveal, this couldn’t be more timely. Evidence from the Office of National Statistics (ONS) clearly indicates that the single biggest killer of men under the age of 45 is suicide. Not cancer, accidents, or anything else.
Diving deeper into the statistics, the common thread is men are less likely to ask for help.
ONS statistics show that since the early 90s, men have been at least three times as vulnerable to death from suicide as women. Men are dealing with the effects of social expectations on masculinity, meaning they are less likely to admit when they feel vulnerable, I know for me I can struggle to ask for help when I need it most. In the absence of asking for help men are likely to self-medicate and ‘numb’ the mental load with alcohol and drugs which can reinforce depression and increase impulsive behaviours.
So, for Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month, I’m thinking of the dads who fall under the age of 45 and how they can be better supported.
There is no blueprint for how dads can raise the next generation with their mental health and well-being intact. I’m a dad. I have two daughters who I co-parent with my wife. I am also a man who knows what it feels like to be in a hole and not know how to get out of it. My life has not always been straightforward.
In the space of 12 months, my family faced multiple blows including various health challenges, and I found myself wondering ‘Can this get any worse?’. My wife later fell down the stairs suffering severe fractures and my daughter was diagnosed with hip dysplasia and underwent major surgery. I cannot tell you the pain I felt as a father watching my 18-month-old daughter drift under the effects of a general anaesthetic. Despite trying desperately to keep it together, my stress levels went through the roof.
I grew up around very poor mental health and have witnessed the effects of suicide. I know what a battle with one’s mental health can do to someone and as we endured this difficult season, I diagnosed myself with everything under the sun. I thought I needed to be locked up.
My Christian faith is a guiding light in my life, and I’ve been fortunate enough to understand what the author of Hebrews is talking about when he writes: ‘We have this hope as an anchor for our souls, firm and secure’. Despite the ‘feeling’ of things not improving I could draw upon the faithfulness of God in days gone past to know that if He’d got me this far, he’d be there as this season continues.
In prayer, I was prompted to contact a friend who was able to connect me to someone he knew could help me. This person’s day job is being a sports coach and he has a background in psychotherapy so when he told me I didn’t have any of the things I had self-diagnosed, I started to listen. He said: “You’re stressed”. He gave me tools to manage my stress like walking and breathing exercises. Though I thought they were ridiculously simple at first, to my surprise they worked.
Finally, he told me that I probably just needed some ‘buddies’ around me.
I got out of the hole by asking for help, but many dads don’t have the same roadmap to help as I did.
Not every dad has a coach for a friend on the other end of the phone.
Ryan, a 38-year-old dad from Kent lost two brothers and one cousin to suicide and two of those deaths happened in the past year. Having had a mental breakdown two years ago, he describes himself in ‘crisis mode’. “I have struggled all my life with my moods. I have always tried to deal with things myself, but this resulted in alcohol and drug abuse to numb the pain, creating another problem, and worsening my mental health.
“Men tend to hide things and not talk as freely as women about their feelings. For me, hiding my issues led me to the point of needing specialist and intensive therapy, the kind of service that isn’t as readily available. For many men, it’s too late before the support reaches them.”
In a society that so comfortably challenges toxic masculinity, why aren’t we making room for men to talk?
Typically, men don’t ask about other men’s feelings.
Add fatherhood into the mix and you’re met with the added worry and responsibility of how this impacts the children. Critically, dads who find themselves in this place often feel as if they’ve failed their job of being ‘dad’. The term ‘positive masculinity’ presents an alternative approach that we should pursue, rather than its toxic variation just being something we should avoid.
To dads I say, it’s less about fixing your problem and more about becoming vulnerable.
Ryan did a skydive to raise money for the cause and in memory of those he lost. He said doing what he can to help, in turn, helps him. He is an important part of the change although he still has a daily battle with his mental health.
As we raise the next generation, we have an opportunity to make change possible for our children. To invite a friend for a pint or coffee and tell them how bad your day was is a culture shift and so is asking another man how he really is. The more our culture starts to shift, the less easy it will be to ignore the gaps in support for dads and, equally, support for all men.
To be a part of the change, fill out this anonymous survey to share how you’ve felt since becoming a dad: https://www.videoask.com/fc82ux5lj
Photo Credits: Samuel Martins, Juliane Lieberman and Donovan Grabowski all via Unsplash
Take the Conker Quiz! Are these statements true or false?
1. Pig poo is the best place to find your winning conker.
True: The great conker player, Charlie Bray, used to swear he had hardened his conkers by passing them through the belly of a pig. They were pickled in the pig’s stomach juices before popping out the other end. Cunning conkerers know that the toughest nut wins!
2: Kids must wear goggles to play conkers.
False: In September 2007 the Health and Safety Executive stated: “This is one of the oldest chestnuts around, a truly classic myth. A well-meaning head teacher decided children should wear safety goggles to play conkers. Subsequently some schools appear to have banned conkers on ‘health & safety’ grounds or made children wear goggles, or even padded gloves! Realistically the risk from playing conkers is incredibly low and just not worth bothering about. If kids deliberately hit each other over the head with conkers, that’s a discipline issue, not health and safety.”
3: If you can’t find a shoelace and a conker, a crane and a caravan are perfectly reasonable alternatives.
True: In 2008 BBC2 Top Gear presenters Richard Hammond and James Mays staged a mild ‘elf and safety gorn maad’ type of protest. They played a massive game of conkers using cranes and swinging caravans wearing, you guessed it, goggles. The Youtube video, Caravan Conkers, has generated 3.2M views.
4: Sir Michael Palin is a conker champion.
False: The English actor, writer and television presenter of Monty Python fame, was disqualified from the 1993 Isle of Wight Conker Championships for baking his conker and soaking it in vinegar. The first recorded game of conkers is believed to have taken place in the Isle of Wight in 1848.
5: Eleven and three quarters is the ideal age to play conkers.
False: This myth is linked to school boy conker hero, William Brown, of ‘Just William’ fame. In 2017 85-year-old Chelsea Pensioner, John Riley, proved that playing conkers can be enjoyed at any age when he utterly thrashed the competition and won the Men’s World Championship.
6: ‘Conker’ is the name of a red squirrel with a cult following.
True: ‘Conker’ starred in the graphic adult oriented 2001 Nintendo 64 computer game ‘Conker’s Bad Fur Day’.
7: In 1803 the poet, Lord, Byron, was waiting for his betrothed in the church yard when he was inspired by an enormous conker lying among the autumn leaves. He penned the poem below, which later became a personal favourite of his friend the Earl of Bridgewater. The young Earl had the words engraved into an elaborate stone tablet located among the Horse Chestnut trees just inside the main gates of his Estate.
“Under the chestnut tree, there waits for me, a sight so marv’llous to behold
Amidst the Autumn leaves it gleams at me, a conker beautiful and bold.”
False: Totally false, I made it up, but you were almost ready to believe me, right? These are the lyrics of a children’s song written by Mark and Helen Johnson, published and produced by Out of the Ark Music for Primary School Harvest and Autumn Assemblies.
8: To go first at Conkers you must bow, then take off your hat, balance on one leg and shout out: “Hail the Chestnut Tree! Grant me victory!”
False: Absolutely false, but I had a lot fun making this one up too! Regional rules and verbal declarations vary but the traditional (not World Championship) rules state that “a conker is more likely to survive if it is the striker not the stricken. Secure the first strike by calling out “first” or other traditional terms such as “hobily, hobily nonker, my first conker!”
9: Anglers launched the World Conker Championship.
True: The World Conker Championships began in Ashton in 1965 when a group of villagers unable to go on an organised fishing trip decided to play conkers instead.
10: The location of some conker trees is a closely guarded secret.
True: To keep the competition as fair as possible, the Ashton Conker Club (World Conker Championship organisers) collect over 1,000 conkers from horse chestnut trees in the village and from secret locations. During years when local supplies are low they import conkers from elsewhere.
11: No one cheats when playing Conkers.
False: In friendly competitions getting away with cheating appears to be an integral part of the fun! Artificial hardening techniques are even passed down through the generations. Famous cheats include: Stuffing your conker up the chimney to dry it out, baking it in an oven, leaving it on a radiator or in a pocket. Other traditional cheats include pickling in bat urine, vinegar, salt water, soda or paraffin, painting with varnish, injecting with superglue, filler or resin or leaving in the dark for a year. The Ashton Conker Club (World Conker Championship organisers) supplies all conkers for the World Championships in order to rule out any cheating!
Photo Credits: All photos courtesy of Geoff Sutcliffe, Ashton Conker Club and the World Conker Championships.
