Next week, after all, is Holy Week - which typically sends clergy across the globe into a flat spin -partly, at least, in our desire to have everything as neatly tied up as possible before Palm Sunday so that there's some hope at least of actually praying our way through the experience.
Add to that the fact that in two (2!!) weeks time LongsufferingClockmaker, the offspring and animals will have moved to our new vicarage, while I'm swanning off to the Big Event...missing the move completely, but not the mountains of guilt associated therewith, which are waking me pretty reliably around 5.00 am most mornings.
Remember that I'm hoping to move the Study before I go to the States...or at least, to get my books onto those eighty feet of diocesan shelves (this means cardboard boxes piled high beside the sofa) and to purge every paper I can possibly purge from my filing cabinets (this means empty plastic wallets all over the floor, creating an ice-rink effect which is ideal when you're running late for Morning Prayer)...
What's more, this week includes the funerals of two very dear and special people and the deadlines for two different parish magazines....AND a trip to Cardiff to see Hattie Gandhi in Pirates of Penzance, and another to Bristol to celebrate my very favourite solicitor...Some time or other, there might just be a service or two, and a sermon or two to plot as well.
So, please may I have a licence to gibber??
2 comments:
Only a heart of stone would refuse you permission to gibber. Or to gibber AND mow, in extra-tense moments.
One licence, from a fellow gibberer.
Hang in there...
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