A doomed visit
Drove to the Cathedral yesterday morning for a College of Canons meeting. As I’m retiring in August, this would be my last meeting with the exalted status of Canon, so wanted to make sure I was there. (Become a Canon Emeritus after retirement, which is a poncy way of saying ‘old’.)
I was certainly there, arriving in plenty of time to robe for the Eucharist, but found myself alone. Nobody else was there. It clicked the first warning signal in my tiny brain. The second warning signal came when I checked my diary to see whether I’d got the time wrong. No, just the wrong day. The meeting is next Tuesday. So I drove home again slightly peeved with myself and even more peeved when the car radio refused to respond. (Strangely, it went on immediately this morning when Ed tried it. Isn’t that irritating?)
Took Home Communion to two of the elderly housebound in the afternoon and was pleased that Mollie aged 97 was now feeling fit enough to make the ritual cup of tea after the short service. She had a lengthy spell in hospital and at the last two visits, it was me making the tea. Of course, it may not be that she’s feeling better, but simply that she couldn’t stand my tea any longer. We shall never know.