Just a note to say I may only be able to blog intermittently (OK, more intermittently) for a while, as number one son is taking the desktop computer and wireless router to his new home in about an hour.
Will be able to log on from the bungalow, but we’re only up there on Thursday nights and Fridays until August. This living in two houses is somewhat unsettling (with the true British penchant for studied understatement).
Might be tricky if I have to print anything out (the printer is going too) but I shall just have to drive up to the bungalow or down to the church office (which only has dial-up internet access so is utterly dire).
Meanwhile, must seek out a sermon for tomorrow before all contact with the civilised world disappears.
Tomorrow is two services in the morning followed by a Family Fun Day at one of the churches. Should be suitably exhausting. Will let you know when I re-emerge from the without-internet-connection darkness.
(To comment, click on title)
Two of our kids visited this last weekend. Well, we had threatened them with chucking all of their stuff, which has been cluttering the Rectory for the last ten years, into a skip if it’s not cleared by the end of this month. So there was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing.
In the course of the weekend they asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday in August.
“Nothing, really. Perhaps a quiet family meal? There’s a lot going on, what with retiring an’ all.”
“But it’s your 65th! We have to do something special like we did for your 63rd. How about a Laser Quest?”
(The 63rd birthday was a hare-brained visit to Thetford Forest to ‘Go Ape’ in the treetops. A kind of adult assault course, thirty feet up. Sounded terrific – until I started. I had forgotten that a terrible fear of heights attacks you as you get older. Unless it’s just me? My legs very quickly turned to rubber. And do you have any idea how exceedingly difficult it is to climb rope ladders? No. Nor did I. I barely survived.)
“Er, ye-es. That might be interesting.”
“That’s a ‘no’, then. What about bowling?”
“Mm. Could do. Years since I went bowling.”
“Oh. Not enthusiastic there, then. Well,” eyes lighting up at this point, “How about roller skating?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed, before I’d had time to think it through sensibly. “I used to love roller skating. I’d love to go again.”
“And,” they added, getting into the swing, “there’s a children’s play area which would be perfect for Leilah (aged three). But who would look after her in there?”
“Oh, your father will never roller skate. He’ll look after her. He’ll enjoy that.”
So there we are. They rushed off to fix it up. And in the cold (sober) light of day I’m beginning to realise what a crazy fool I am. Will I never learn?
So if you hear about this mad English Rector attending her farewell service in plaster and on crutches, you’ll know exactly who it is. I hope you’ll spare me a prayer.
(To comment, click on title)
Arrived at church for the service yesterday morning only to see a large sigh outside the lych-gate, pointing towards the West door (the main entrance to the church).
‘Open Gardens tickets here’ it proclaimed, in large letters. And sure enough, there was a table ensconced in the church porch, complete with tickets and programmes for the church/village Open Gardens and manned by one of the church warden. The other church warden was nowhere in evidence, his being one of the gardens which was open.
“When does it start?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s already started, an hour ago!”
“Why are we having a service then? Half the congregation will be opening their gardens. And there’ll be people coming for tickets – one of you will have to be out in the porch sorting them out. And what about this display of photos all about the second world war and those who swerved in it? There’ll be people coming in and out to view it, won’t there? We should have cancelled for today, surely?”
But they just smiled and shrugged, so the service went ahead.
To my surprise, there were almost as many in church (for the service) as usual. Since it was hotter than a tropical rain forest we kept the door open, and there was plenty of noise from the porch which was a bit off-putting to start with. But I soon got used to it and ignored it.
In the end I felt it was a great witness – the church being right in the midst of people and events and showing how gentle and supportive worship can be, even if only heard from the margins of the porch.
So I hope they’ve done well with their open gardens (I think there were about a dozen gardens throughout the village to visit, all serving refreshments and some selling plants).They had brilliant weather for it.
(To comment, click on title)
Must blog quickly today as Murray is due on centre court in about an hour and a half, after the Federer/Haas match. Nine Brits have reached the semi finals in the last 71 years, none have got through to the finals. The last appearance in the finals was 71 years ago and the last win by a Brit was 75 years ago. Hence I absolutely have to watch on TV. Here in Norfolk it’s just started torrential rain, but so far it’s fine at Wimbledon. And yes, I know he’s playing one of yours, but you’ve had McEnroe and Connors and Sampras and heaps of others. Allow us just one little burst of excitement.
Anyway, before the match starts.
My success story isn’t Murray (although of course I hope it will be) but the fact that at long last and some months later, I’ve eventually managed to network my two computers running Linux by dint of changing from Ubuntu to Mint. Now, not only can I ‘see’ each computer from the other, but I can actually print wirelessly with my feet up in front of the tennis (the printer being in the study). This may not seem like much to you, but for me is an occasion of great rejoicing.
Furthermore, I cut my own hair this morning. Well, the fringe anyway. Wielded the scissors in fear and trepidation and with considerable difficulty as I was looking in the mirror, but it worked well enough. May not be Park Lane, but will pass muster. I think. Mind you, I shall now be on the lookout for those sidelong glances, quickly averted but ever returning in embarrassed fascination, unable to quite believe the sight…
I think our brief heatwave has come to an end. It was so hot yesterday that Ed volunteered to drive me to the Crematorium for yesteday’s funeral, his car having air-con. I was glad to accept. Those darn terylene stoles around your neck may be comforting in the depths of winter in a medieval church, but are not quite so much fun at ninety degrees. A small funeral, this one, only around twenty people. The poor old guy had dropped out of circulation when his wife died six years ago. Couldn’t really cope with the loss and became something of a recluse, cared for by his daughter who used to visit daily. But the folk at the funeral spoke highly of him – he served on destroyers during the war when he was just a teenager and survived two ships which were bombed and sunk. Too much for a teenage lad from a quiet, rural village in the heart of Norfolk. The experiences completely coloured his whole life, as they did for most during WW 2.
Federer’s looking pretty hot stuff at the moment, so I’m afraid I need to leave you and concentrate on Wimbledon. Bye for now.
(To comment, click on title)
Had two meetings scheduled for the same time last night. As they were two final meetings, felt obliged to go to both to say farewell and thank you. No, didn’t cut myself in half (have you ever cogitated on that saying of Jesus, “If your eye offends you pluck it out” etc? I haven’t seen all that many one-eyed Christians walking around..) but spent the first hour at one then onto the next one.
The first was my last ever school governors’ meeting. I’ve been a school governor since 1979. Different schools, but it’s long enough for anyone. The changes in that time are unbelievable (education is such a selling point for politicians. They can’t help themselves tinkering with it. Not that the students appear to learn any more, but at least the politicians feel they’re doing something. Keeps them happy.) The governing body presented me with a huge bouquet of flowers, so large I could hardly get it into the boot of my car. Yes, O.K. I know it’s a small car. But still. I spent a happy half hour arranging the flowers in three vases this morning, which is something of a first for me as I’m generally a shove-it-in-a-jampot kind of person.
The second meeting was a final PCC for one of the six parishes. Only five more to go. Still, this has been a good PCC (Parochial Church Council – the running body of the churches in the Church of England. Well, not running exactly. More strolling or staggering, if the truth be known) and it was a great opportunity for me to say thank you, which of course, they reciprocated.
No fetes, weddings or baptisms this weekend, so I’m going to take some time off.
(To comment, click on title)