Well, almost. Actually since there were around 300 of us, all crammed into two huge marquees joined into one in the bishop’s beautiful garden, I didn’t say more than two words to him or his wife.
Never mind, Ed and I had a lovely time, meeting up with old friends and enjoying the lavish buffet provided by the bishop.
The occasion? A Eucharist in the cathedral followed by lunch in the bishop’s garden, for all the retired clergy in the diocese, their spouses (spice?), plus all clergy widows and widowers.
It was sad to meet up with some newly widowed spice, especially as their husbands who died were only around my age (that’s young, honestly), but an excellent service in the cathedral where the preacher (one of us retireds) memorably smashed a clay pot onto the floor of the sanctuary from the ten feet or so height of the pulpit. The point being that we’re all cracked pots, or possibly crackpots.
The marquee was set out with round tables seating eight, and we were fortunate enough to have a lively bunch on our table, so enjoyed lots of fun and laughter over our meal.
In the evening our choir had a concert, so it felt like a very full day, but one which both Ed and I greatly enjoyed.
Sadly it’ll be two years before the next bishop’s-lunch-for-retired-clergy, so hopefully we’ll all meet up in some other way before then, before we’re all the wrong side of the grass!
We’ve had an exciting time.
Ed and I motored down to Cranfield University at the Defence Academy, Watchfield (just outside Swindon), to share in our youngest daughter’s PhD graduation ceremony.
That was exciting, but even more so, the Princess Royal was awarded an honorary degree at the same ceremony. Afterwards, Becki (and her guests – that’s Ed and me and our son, Alex) was one of the students chosen to be presented to Princess Anne (the queen’s daughter).
Here’s one of the pictures taken by proud parents…
Later, Princess Anne’s husband, the drop-dead gorgeous Vice-Admiral Sir Timothy Lawrence, also came and chatted – and actually shook my hand. I haven’t washed since.
Here he is…
They were both such nice people. They must get sick to death of such events, yet showed great interest in everyone and everything, and both with a lovely sense of humour.
A great occasion. We loved it!
Is it only after you’ve retired that you spend so much time waiting around? I find myself waiting for tradesmen – plumbers and electricians and so on – waiting for phone calls – people who promise to call at a specific time but never do – and for the last three days, waiting for the rector to call.
He goes on holiday when the schools break up for the summer (which is on Friday) and I cover for him, taking the services and fielding any calls that crop up. Funerals, and the like.
At church on Sunday he said he’d like to call this week, to sort out exactly what I needed to do in his absence (it would be nice to know) and I told him, Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, as I shan’t be around on Thursday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday.
It’s now three-thirty on Wednesday, and thus far, no visit. Mind you, I did go out for a walk yesterday, while Ed manned the house. Disturbingly, I noticed the swallows gathering on the telephone wires like so many musical notes. Doesn’t that signify the end of the summer, when the swallows depart? I hope I’m wrong, since the children aren’t yet on holiday.
Well, that’s it. I’m off to make a cup of tea. That should bring him…
P.S. Perhaps I should offer him the crème brulee (see below) – to DIE for!!
It’s been a chequered week of alternate days of pouring rain and bright sunshine. Unfortunately one of the pouring rain days was yesterday so I didn’t get my weekly golf, but today is glorious sunshine so I’ve already made the most of it and while Ed was watching The Open (golf) on television, managed a walk – on the path as I reckoned anything off-road might be thick mud after yesterday. It was lovely out there today.
Meanwhile, I’ve been experimenting with the slow cooker. We’ve had ours for about nine months, and use it most of the time to cook meat dishes. You can use the cheapest possible cut of meat, sling everything into the slow cooker, switch on and leave it. Come back around five hours later to a delicious, tasty meal with meat so tender it falls off the fork. And it only uses the electricity of a light bulb. Can’t be bad.
Last week we went into Norwich with our visitors and browsed in the discount book store, where I spotted (and bought for 99p) a book of slow cooker recipes. It was a revelation. I discovered you can cook all sorts of delicious desserts as well as main courses, so we shot into Tesco and bought a second slow cooker for £10, just for desserts.
Today’s effort is a crème brulee, which I love but have never previously attempted. However, even I can manage the bung-it-and-leave-it method, so I have great hopes. One of the really good things is that you can’t overcook, so it suits me fine.
I’ve now found some great slow cooker websites, all offering free recipes which other people have tried and tested. Count me among the fans, I’ve definitely become a slow cooker devotee.
Must go now – off to sample crème brulee…
Actually, we’ve been back a week, but visitors descended as we arrived home and stayed for this past week. It was lovely seeing them again and we had a good time together.
These visitors were very interesting. They have a caravan, and this last winter they took it to the south of Spain where they stayed until March, missing all our snow and horrendous weather. They regaled us with tales of the life out there – lots of people from all over Europe gather there every winter, and it did sound great fun, as well as having the temperature of our Spring.
They went home – or rather, onto other relatives – after lunch yesterday, but as I had a choir engagement in the evening, it’s only today that Ed and I have really begun to relax.
We had a good week in Wales, dry too, although we missed the heatwave they had here in East Anglia.
We did see a peregrine falcon up close – it chose the tree just outside our window to reside for a while, a fantastic sight. It’s a majestic hawk, which frequents estuaries and cliffs. Wales has plenty of those, and we were overlooking an estuary.
We also came across Dylan Thomas’ grave on one of our walks. He and his wife, Caitlin, are buried in the churchyard in Laugharne. Apparently he arrived on a bus one day, fell in love with Laugharne, and never left again. His little writing hut, where all his best poetry was written, was just outside the grounds where we were staying, and our lodge overlooked Milk Wood, the scene of his most famous poem, “Under Milk Wood.”
The churchyard was full of large, important-looking, granite and marble graves, but this was the only sign of 
Dylan Thomas’ grave,
and on the other side was his wife, 
Caitlin.
It was really refreshing to see how unassuming was the greatest poet in the history of Wales. Must be a message in that somewhere.
Now we’re back to normal (or what approximates to normal in the Scott household) and tomorrow I’m preaching at a different church, one way outside this deanery, and where I’ve never been before. They meet in a school, so I have a talk on the parable of the sower (which is set for the day by those on high) complete with slides. I hope they enjoy it – I think I will!
