Going, going............

Things to remember about ENFPs include the irritating fact that not only will they delay packing for any trip until almost too late, but they will then find it impossible to commit themselves to any given item.

After 25 minutes last night, I finally managed to decide with Bible to take (well, 2....big NRSV with lots of notes, as the prospect of preaching outside my context is distinctly challenging and weeny New Jerusalem, so I can actually have one with me at all times) but really important things like ear rings, which photo of the children and whether or not to travel in patchwork trousers are way way beyond me.
I don't, you'll be relieved to hear, have to choose between those two rucksacks...they are both coming, one as hand and one as "real" luggage...but I'm taking a spare bag to fill up with exciting treasures from lands afar (assuming, of course, that I remember to take my purse!)
I shouldn't find more time to blog before I go, so.........will be in touch as soon as I can from India, - but expect me when you see me. Take care, all of you, while I'm gone....Hugs all round xx

Sunday 3

OK..so I have to take it back about autumn. GK and I finally found it this afternoon, as we panted our way up Coopers Hill.

The sun shone, the dogs were in ecstasty, and we scuffed and jumped our way through a carpet of leaves to our hearts' content.

I grew up in East Sussex, not far from Rudyard Kipling's home at Bateman's, and it was his "Way through the Woods" that was a silent soundtrack to the afternoon for me.


They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.


Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate.
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few)
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods . . . .
But there is no road through the woods.

Sunday Vignettes 2

After that dramatically unpromising start, the day thankfully improved.
I presided at the 10.00, which also included the baptism of 2 members of our First Communion Group. S and J are both old enough to know exactly how special the day is…but still young enough ( Reception and Y2, if my memory serves me correctly) to show huge enthusiasm.
The whole service was a joy, but one of the best of all moments was when I was introducing the signing with the cross…We’d talked beforehand about invisible labels, and about the cross serving to remind us of just how much God loves us….so I decided to risk asking the boys what it was all about.
S, with a grin as wide as the whole world, opened his arms and said delightedly
“It’s God’s HUG”.
Lovely to know that at least one member of the church family has got the message!

Sunday Vignettes 1

What can I say about a day that began at 2.00 this morning, when the burglar alarm firm who guard LCM’s workshop phoned to tell me that the alarm was going off and the police were on their way?
LCM was away, and not contactable…Nor were any of the keyholders who actually live in the village, so I tottered out of bed and drove the 20 miles to our old home, armed with assorted unidentified keys which I hoped might do the trick (LCM, of course, having his keys with him).
At the workshop, I met up with 2 charming policemen (yes, really) and together we worked our way through all the spare keys in the Fleming family key pot, till we found a set that opened the back door of the barn. Then it was just a simple matter of establishing that we couldn’t turn the lights on because something had tripped the electricity system and whatever we did it refused to behave. The alarm system, convinced it had been tampered with by evil ne'er-do-wells, was not about to lie down and go back to sleep, so having tried evhery possible solution (and those are hard to come up with when half asleep, in the dark, with an alarm ringing in your ears) so we had to give it best, pray that the backup batteries were short-lived, and retire crushed.
Thank God that the clocks went back last night, allowing at least one hour of sleep to be reclaimed before Sunday started in earnest.

Has anyone seen autumn?

Since October began, I've been confidently expecting its arrival, but it seems to have been mislaid in this part of Gloucestershire at least. As I look out the window, the sycamore in the primary school grounds is still in full leaf, though one or two trees up the road have turned overnight and dropped all their leaves in blackened heaps on the pavement. I've been on wet walks to hunt for it, heard rumours of its arrival here but on the whole it has been conspicuous by its absence almost everywhere that I've looked for it.
Nonetheless, today the dogs and I accompanied the horse and his boy for our first outing from the new yard. Truffle horse seems to have settled happily,- so there's at least one member of the family I can leave without anxiety on Wednesday. The new yard is very close to this splendid pub (where we celebrated HG's 18th en famille) and only 12 minutes away from home, so there are certainly advantages in the long run from this enforced move.
Short term, though, we don't know the rides so we stuck to the lanes, (while dodging battalions of hearty types out shooting pheasants) - but all in all, it was a good morning.
But, oh dear, there was so little autumn to enjoy.
I want to scuff through piles of leaves and harvest mushrooms and sloes from the hedgerows - but I guess all that will just have to wait for next year. Today, these were the very best that the Cotswolds could offer..and by next weekend the landscape will be startlingly different for me at least.

India - a penny drops!

It’s been brought to my notice that I’ve not actually blogged since Tuesday….amazing fact! Kathryn actually stopped talking for long enough for someone to notice the silence…
Actually, there was quite a good reason for it,- namely very little worth blogging. The Indian Express continues to bear down on me, dominating both practical and emotional landscapes, and much of last week was very task focussed and makes less than rivetting reading...

You see, since Tuesday I’ve

• Started my malaria tablets

• Stripped Gloucester Cathedral and Tewkesbury Abbey of small and inexpensive gifts of the tea-towel and bookmark variety, since I'd hate to arrive empty handed in a culture famous for generosity
  

• Continued to accumulate clothes and pharmaceuticals in the corner of the bedroom, where they fill me alternately with excitement and guilt whenever I fall over them en route to draw the curtains (one possible solution to this would be, of course, to get on with packing the things…but that feels a bit too conclusive right now)

• Purred happily as I watched HS and GK enjoying the CK Community Players production of Oliver! - HS in sole charge 0f a rather complex lighting scheme, and watching the world from a great height, GK giving his all on stage. Actually, I felt rather like the mum of the entire company as they seem to be either part of my congregation, kids I know from schools/youth groups,neighbours or dog walkers. Inordinately proud of them all, if that doesn't sound patronising. Believe me, they were excellent.
  

• Enjoyed 3 excellent evenings with special friends, all of whom are reassuringly confident that they will indeed see me in December. Mind you, I suspect that N and I, who habitually meet for curry every six weeks or so, may just need to revise our habits in the immediate aftermath of my trip. After curries and spicy foods 3 meals a day for a month, they may no longer be quite the treat they’ve been till now…but we’ll cross that bridge as and when…
  

Meanwhile, some of the congregation as nearly as wobbly about my departure as I’ve been at my worst. I think they too my be treating my trip as a dress rehearsal for my real departure, which is likely some time in the next 18 months. It’s possible, too, that India really does look rather alarming if you’ve spent most of your life in the same parish. One elderly couple I visited yesterday punctuated their conversation with the anxious mantra
“We do hope you’ll come back…”
Thinking rationally (which isn’t something that comes easily to me) I guess the greatest cause for concern is the famously alarming Indian city traffic. I can promise hand on heart to flee from all serpents faster than they can flick their tongues at me (and indeed, I’ve been assured that they are so rare in Karnataka Central that I may phone not only our diocesan Social Responsibility officer but Fab Bishop himself if I actually have a close encounter with one). Google is very quiet about man-eating tigers in Bangalore, and somehow the chances of my running off to the hills with a passing Maharajah seem depressingly slim. So, let’s assume that all will be well. It seems a healthy way to look at things!

But as so often, it took Little Fishes on Thursday to make me really see what is going on. Our session on One World Week provided the perfect focus for thoughts about my trip, so I emptied my cupboards of Fair Trade food from across the world (though frustratingly, not a thing from the Indian subcontinent), and we talked about mutual dependence between different races. Mostly, we rolled an inflatable globe around the place, but the older siblings who had joined us for half term helped me find India, England and the countries of origin of most of the food.
We sang “He’s got the whole world in his hands” and “Wide, wide as the ocean…” and then it happened. As I pointed out just how much of the globe was actually sea, the truth came home to me with a resounding thud…
“His word teaches me that his love reaches me everywhere”
I first learned the song from my mother, who’d learned it in her turn at her C.I.M. mission school in Cheefoo, China, over 70 years ago...And, of course, it's true!
Thanks be to God!

Another interruption

Hattie Ghandi was home at the weekend, to borrow the car, do some washing and touch base with her family before heading off to a creative writing course with her much beloved Kilvites. Blissfully, I had no preaching committments at all, so was really able to enjoy her presence. HG, HS and I spent Sunday afternoon being thoroughly spoiled by Good Friend with Fireplace. Can't think when I was last so completely relaxed and thoroughly happy.

Thanks, J :-)

We interrupt this countdown

for a glimpse into the chaotic world of the curate's dreams..

It was a gorgeous autumn afternoon, of the sort I’m still hoping to catch before I depart for India.
Trees in amazing shades of reds and golds, sky blue, air crisp with just a touch of lingering warmth.
I was making my way to the airport, complete with backpack ready for India, along a wide flag-stoned passage that I somehow knew was part of a rambling Victorian house.
I was riding the children’s horse, Truffle.
He seemed totally unperturbed by finding himself inside…and coped very well with the frequent stops to open doors (each time I had to dismount to reach the handle…and then climb onto a large dark brown leather sofa in order to remount. For some reason, those sofas were to be found at regular intervals along the passageway).

We finally emerged onto a beautiful lawn, and saw a flight of steps leading up to some French windows. Riding up the steps (as you do, you know) we found ourselves in the middle of a wedding reception (Since you ask, this was for Fab Bishop’s former Chaplain, who got married some years ago, without either curate or horse in attendance).A huge number of diocesan clergy were there, all wearing very snazzy gold copes….except for me, of course, - you try riding in a cope!
I was in the middle of explaining why I was so woefully under-dressed when….

Aren't you glad you don't have dreams like that?!

India countdown 3

Miracles do happen.
I've FOUND THE LOST PRAYER BOOKS!
Only one drawer away from where I expected them to be, too. Let joy be unconfined.

Also had an email from the diocesan Social Responsibility officer, who co-ordinates the India trips, saying that the Bishop was looking forward to our arrival, had arranged for us to go to parishes for some time, but other plans include a clergy retreat.

WonderfulVicar got to go to the jungle to see elephants. I'm trying hard not to want that to happen too badly, in case it can't.

Church of South India

Here's the logo of the Church of South India, formed in 1947 from the union of Anglicans, Methodists, Presbyterians and URC.
I'm told that worship tends to replicate the worship of 1950s England, - that the whole experience of church life may feel rather like time-travel to a period before I was born.
(If I could only find the copy of the Church of S India prayerbook which I was given months ago by a retired cleric, and which I then put in a safe place somewhere in the study I'd be in a better position to reflect on this, perhaps.fx gnashing of teeth and stomping around study a la Rumplestiltskin])
Coupling that with the culture shock of my first exposure to non-European life, my only expectation is to be surprised almost consantly! That's OK. I love surprises!
I also love the logo, with its expression of Christian faith rooted in the specific Indian culture.
Here's the official line on it

The cross represents Jesus' death for us, bringing freedom from sin. The other design is the lotus flower from India, which is a traditional picture of God being near us. The lotus grows out of mud, like the beauty and purity that can grow in our lives out of Jesus' sacrifice.
The cross is red (for life) and the lotus is saffron (for holiness).

To me, the lotus would also represent the incarnation...God born, as one of my favourite prayers has it, "in the very thick of our muddle".
I am looking forward to meeting him in his children so many thousands of miles away.
Meanwhile, time to focus on the 10.00 congregation here in Charlton Kings. Today was my last 8.00 before I go, and they were very sweet...specially one lady who is a remnant of the British Raj, retired to a bungalow with an Indian name. She's quite elderly, as you might guess, but was positively skittish in her excitement on my behalf. I sort of wish I could take her with me...

India countdown

With the iRiver being loaded by Glowstick Knight (who deserves some exceptionally prestigious award for so doing), assorted mosquito repellers, malaria tablets and thin cotton shirts beginning to pile up in a corner of the bedroom, and my passport sporting its first ever visa, it’s beginning to dawn on me that in 10 days time I’m not "merely" (and with trepidation) abandoning my beloved children for a month…
I am actually GOING TO INDIA!!!

And I’ve decided it’s time to get just the teeniest bit excited.
After all, I’ve never been outside Europe, I’ve not been away from home on my own for more than a week since I married LCM 21 years ago and I’ve never lived as family with people from a totally different culture. Seems to me there’s plenty to inspire incredulous wonder at there.
And not only am I being allowed to do all this, it’s actually part of my work…in the same amazing way as hearing people’s stories, praying with them and being able to offer them the Sacraments.
Did I tell you before that this is the most wonderful job in the world?

To ensure that I stay in upbeat mood (and yes, we can confidently predict tears of monsoon proportions when I actually say good-bye to the boys on 1st November) I thought I’d blog some background to the trip, as much for my benefit as a notional reader. Looking at things like maps makes it all seem real…and that has to be good.
So...here's where I'm flying to. Bangalore, in the diocese of Karnataka Central in the Church of South India. Bangalore is the black splodge at the right hand point of the triangle of 2 red and 1 black splodge at the bottom of the map (sorry, best image I could find)
Later on, I'll blog a bit about the city and the diocese...official briefing at this end has been minimal so I'm busy doing some belated research, while finishing Rohinton Mistry's amazing novels A Fine Balance and Such a Long Journey (both highly recommended - and certainly helping me to get in the mood)

Meanwhile, here's one image of the city it chooses to project to the world. Really rather different from Charlton Kings!

Ouch

Just back from seeing Pipe Dreams, the play that Riding Lights are currently touring. Publicity described this as an "hilarious" whodunnit - and certainly there were some witty exchanges and good laughs to be had...so why did we come home silent, subdued?

In a week in which I feel I've wasted time to a huge and uncomfortable extent, it was hard to evade the question put into the mouth of a Tanzanian woman, whose daily life is one long search for water
"I wonder what people do with all those minutes in which they don't have to look for water".

Minutes I didn't even realise I was fortunate to enjoy.

No less shockingly, I'd thought of the need to use only bottled water for everything in India from my own viewpoint...a needful precaution to avoid illness but really rather a nuisance. Tonight, before ever I leave home, I was reminded of what the daily reality of impure water actually means for so many people.
Yes, I'll have to be careful for 4 weeks, but then I will come home to turn on the tap and drink my fill.
Pipe Dreams reawakened me to the scandalous unfairness of a world in which we (I) squander unthinkingly a resource that should be freely available to all. There must be more I can do...I suspect these guys would be a good starting point.

UK readers, please just go and see the show....believe me, it's worth it!

What does the Lord require....?

Rather less than we might have imagined, according to a new edition of the Bible without the awkwardly demanding bits. The Western Bible is published in Holland and presents Scripture as most of us in the west actually live it.
Full story (and mind you read to the very end) c/o Ekklesia here Hat tip to John
I'm not exactly laughing my head off, though.

A post about nothing at all.

When confronted with an unexpected free slot due to a cancelled meeting, a study that has been hit by the blitz (and the terriers) once again, and the continuing need to get things tied up before India, naturally I..........

• gaze in rapt fascination at the iRiver which has just arrived. Those of you light years ahead of me in the technology stakes will be totally unsurprised that it's both seriously tiny and seriously cute. Can't believe it will achieve everything it claims...if it does, this could well be love. OK, so the instructions are beyond me, but that's why you have teenagers, no? I'll let you know when I'm in a position to actually play music on it...meanwhile, please keep thinking of musical mementos for me to take on the India trip.
  

• check and respond to any possible email, even message that don't require a response ever

• check the state of the shirts I bought in a charity shop yesterday to take to India, and had to dye because they were in impossible colours (now rather pleasing sludgy blue, so I'm well-pleased)

• join the cool kids in taking the Personal DNA test. Of its accuracy I can say little I think(not least because an experience of seeing myself through the eyes of others this week has been a wee bit confusing...)...But some of it definitely made sense, and whatever else, it's rather pretty!

Benevolent Creator

What to do now?? Surely doing something useful can't be the only remaining option?
I know...I'll have some lunch then tackle the study.
Maybe.

A day in the life...

Today UK bloggers were invited to take part in a sort of 21st century exercise in mass observation. Inevitably, this meant that today nothing exciting happened, and that the impact of history on my life was restricted, really, to saying the Office in a church that has stood for more than 800 years. Needless to say, that particular link escaped me till after I'd posted. Ah well, they can always delete me.
For the record, this was the outline I submitted...and very dull reading it makes.

Cycled up to Morning Prayer, where I met M (Training Incumbent) & R, vicar of neighbouring parish with whom we’re to work more closely as part of the current Mission Action Plan in the diocese.
R very good at making sure that I don’t feel sidelined as “just the curate” – not that M would ever sideline anyone, but R clearly has strong feelings on the subject and his own curacy experience is not long behind him…Good to say the Office together & then talk a bit about where the church in Cheltenham might be going. We all know there are still too many buildings, and there will be a need to lose a few more clergy in the years ahead. Meanwhile, there’s so much that’s good & creative & God filled going on, so it wasn’t a depressing conversation in the least.
Home to do emails, blog, and take a few parish phonecalls…Listened for a good half hour to the daughter of lady I visit, who’s been critically ill for 2 weeks. Transferred from Intensive Care to High Dependency yesterday, - definite progress, - but I feel terribly helpless & ineffectual being unable to visit till this stupid cold has departed. Otherwise I might as well arrive with the Last Rites, - not the desired effect!
I’m currently trying to sort things for my imminent trip to India; going as part of diocesan link with diocese of Karnataka Central in the Church of S India. Not at all sure what to expect, except that I’ll be living with assorted clergy families for the month, with the brief to learn & experience as much as possible of what it means to be Church in such a very different context. I’m wobbly about abandoning the offspring, so wrote some “just in case” letters this morning too, then went on with sorting out the contents of the “Little Fishes Song Book” which we need for Toddler Church.
Sandwich lunch and a brief dog walk ("Call that a walk?", ask the dogs in indignant unison) before getting ready for JAFFA KIDS after-school club in the Primary School. 15 children today, despite football. Looking at some Old Testament stories. Learn a rap about Noah (which they want to perform at Assembly-) and then make rainbow spinners and play some silly colour-themed games. It’s half term next week, so I won’t now see them till after India, & they’re very sweet,interested in where I’ll be staying and what I’ll be doing. Wish I knew!
Staff meeting with M, looking at diary issues & discussing how to avoid the sort of mad (potentially destructive) Sunday that I’ve experienced recently. Not sure, to be honest, that he’s any more adept at this than I am, but we agreed that it wasn’t a good state of affairs.
Evening Prayer for the eve of St Luke. Good opportunity to reflect on the way we use and abuse Scripture, and to pray for the health of the Church…
Eve dominated by efforts to choose & purchase mp3 player for India. In the end, found one which uses ordinary batteries, so I won’t be dependent on local electricity supply. Quite expensive as a present to myself, but I NEED music while I’m away. Asked my friends to suggest something to take with me so I’ll feel that they’re closer.
Watched Holby. Heartbreaking story-line about woman with motor neurone disease who has opted to travel to Switzerland for assisted suicide. Sympathy very much with her as she longs for a measure of the control that her illness would deprive her of…but also the husband and children who will feel that she has chosen to leave them before her time. So glad I’m not in a situation where I’m called to minister to anyone in that place. Too many feelings about the place! Long for the day when care’s so good that even ifor such a degenerative condition, there remains the possibility that life could be worth living till the end. The God I believe in is one who transforms even the most intractably hopeless situation.

I can't for the life of me think what the archivists will make of that lot. But at least those of you who are wondering about why I'm going to India now have some sort of answer,- the best I can manage myself.
My best clue came in an email today "travel safely and grab all you can from the experience ... come back
refreshed ... renewed ... and with a clearer idea of God's plan for you for
the next chapter of your journey with him ... "
I'll go with that, I think!

Dunnit

Having mulled, perused, consulted and agonised I decided that in the end the really vital thing was probably not to be dependent on local electricity supplies...After all, I have a phone and a camera I'll be desperate to keep fully charged, and I'm told that several power cuts in a day are the norm. So, with all thanks to everyone who advised so kindly, I've gone for this. It runs on ordinary AA batteries, which won't take up much space in my luggage.Smaller memory than some, but truly Liz, I can't imagine I'd ever want to have my full music collection on it...I just LIKE CDs. In the box, with the details of the performer and pretty pictures and everything.
Anyway, it's ordered. 2 out of 3 offspring are manically pro iRiver anyway,- so they are cheering me on. And it comes tomorrow (day off, so time to play) , and cost less than £70 (I plan to spend the one penny I've saved on wild frivolity) which has to be good, I hope!
Shame it's not pink, but you can't have everything.
Now all I need is a few more suggestions of music to play on it. Not you, Steve...there are a good few Steve recommendations on my short list already!

Feeling shallow!

Taking a break from the excitement of adding songs to the Little Fishes Songbook (yes, F, it really is going to happen...I'm working on it, see?!) I'm trying to resolve the question of how to take essential music to India. With a long flight (and I don't fly happily) there and back, even if I only listen then, I need something. My CD walkman isn't alot of use without copious CDs, so it looks like the time has finally come to invest in an mp3 player of some sort. The question is, which?
Of course, I love the look of iPods. So stylish....and I could have a pink one, which would surely cheer me instantly...but Hugger Steward, my guru for all things techie, feels that would be selling out to effective advertising. I would, I think, only need a nano anyway, as I'm sure that 4GB will be ample...I do rather like the physical reality of CDs and as most of my music is classical anyway, I'm not going to be wanting to hear only bits of works most of the time. When at home, therefore, I imagine I'd revert to CD player as a first resort.
iPod Nanos are reputedly available at the new Apple shop in town for £99 - otherwise, it seems to be £120 - alot of money to find, but if you can convince HS that it's worth it, I'm certainly open to persuasion.
On the other hand, I could have a Sony (with admittedly less capacity - only 1GB) for £72.99 - and yes, it's still pink!
Most promising of all, perhaps is an Archos Gmini with 3GB in the mid £70s which is rather attractive - pink or blue.
HELP!!!
Does anyone have any views??

EDIT: having done a bit more research, I'm now in mourning because all the systems I really like the look of are not supplied with a mains recharger/adapter...and the chances of my having access to a computer alot of the time to recharge are distinctly slim. So, farewell archos, farewell Creative Zen, even farewell iPod. I may well have to plump for shorter playing time, with an obscure Chinese alternative (but thanks, Paul, for putting me on to Advanced mp3 players...really helpful site, even if they told me things I was disappointed to hear)

Also, I know I'm going to miss all of you hugely while I'm out of touch, and would love to have a song or piece of music that you had suggested to take with me.
Please, populate my anything- but-desert island by choosing one track for a displaced curate, bearing in mind my tastes are from classical through what the offspring say I can call soft rock (that means U2 and REM in my book) to stuff like Martyn Joseph and Pierce Pettis. Open to surprises of any kind, but really don't do well with commercial pop!
Over to you, friends....I wish I could take you all with me, so humour me by providing a musical substitute!

Sunday follow up

Thanks for your comments on the post below. I'd hate anyone to think that I expect sermons to sink or swim on the basis of my words alone, or how I've felt about them in preparation. I'm very aware that sometimes God seems to arrive and stand so close to me in the pulpit that I can only try to get out the way altogether and leave the Holy Spirit to get on with it,- and those times won't always be the ones when I've been most conscious of God's presence in preparation. But what baffles me is that those times don't always seem to coincide with congregational response.
For example, the Story of a Church that I blogged earlier this month emerged so rapidly and painlessly, despite my own anxiety about actually preaching it,that I knew very well that I didn't have any option about it. It absolutely wasn't my idea, but very much God's, and he held my hand right the way through the delivery... And yes, one or two people did seem to be touched by it, but not on the perplexing scale of last night.
Of course, it's not impossible that it doesn't feel appropriate to react during the ritual church-door handshake...and then the moment passes. I don't know,- but it does intrigue me.

Meanwhile, yes, Sundays have been stupidly busy of late,- though I was making extra heavy weather of yesterday, due to a maddening early cold. There are certain bits of the structure that aren't negotiable but some of the extra load has been to do with trying to get things sorted before I depart for India. In some ways, this feels rather like a rehearsal for leaving St M's, which will have to happen some time in the next 18 months or so...It's an uncomfortable thought in some ways,- so many special connections with special people, so many dreams dreamed. "Bright ideas" are one of my things,- (I'm a Belbin"plant" and my "completer/finisher" score in is probably actually into negative numbers...) but that doesn't mean that I don't lament the visions that I won't get to see translated into reality in the lives of the people here. So, I've been madly trying to tie up all sorts of loose ends before India, in a thoroughly uncharacteristic way. I guess in some ways, once I get onto the plane I will have so little control of the daily reality of life for the next month, I'm compensating in advance by leaving as much as possible sewn up here.
Anyway, WonderfulVicar told me to treat today as a sick-day. I don't actually feel too foul, so am compromising by sparing the parish my germs, and staying in to complete assorted footlings on the computer, and actually read some of the books threatening to overwhelm my poor innocent desk.
Trevor Pinnock playing Bach on the CD player.
Actually, life's OK ;-)

Does anyone else get this?

Having preached regularly for some 12 years now,I still don't understand the way that some sermons that you feel are the very best you can manage fall flat as the proverbial pancake, while others, apparently deeply pedestrian, seem to take wing as you climb into the pulpit.
Tonight's words, for Evensong, were inspired by two particularly gruelling Sundays on the trot...the sort of Sunday that inspires good and wise friends to prophecy imminent breakdown if you don't get a grip sooner rather than later. I thought I had taken heed last weekend, but this Sunday saw me celebrating at 10.00, taking a First Communion class immediately after lunch, followed by attending a study group before Evensong, where I preached.After that, I did a quick teaching session for the Youth Group, before limping pathetically home, whimpering gently...and knowing that I had absolutely nothing left to give to anyone!
En route,though, I did preach this...which seemed to me less than dynamic, not madly inspired...and it produced a far more enthusiastic response than things I've been reasonably pleased with, even slightly proud of.
I repeat, I just don't understand!

In which the architecture is thwarted once again.

To-day saw me battling with a cold, moving the horse to pastures new (very sadly, the yard where we've kept the ponies for several years has had to close as the landlord is selling up...) and attempting the interesting feat of writing two sermons at once.
Fortunately one of them was almost complete before the cold hit...It was specially fortunate, because this was the one I needed this evening for the Inclusive Church Eucharist.
The congregation was on the miniscule side, and, alarmingly, included rather more people whose opinions I respect hugely than might make for comfort...However, the liturgy was beautiful, the hymns just right, and I survived the preaching experience. If you want it, you'll find the sermon here.
The very best thing, though, was that when I went to prepare the Table at the Offertory I was thinking sadly "Now we'll be so far away from those people...it would be so much better if we'd only thought to invite them to come and stand round the Table"....and then the hymn started and their voices sounded so close, and I looked round and, lo, they had moved of their own accord!
That's twice in a fortnight that we've been able to subvert the architecture of St M's to stand as family together and it is wonderful.
Inclusive Church? Yes, really!