I had been planning on giving myself a day off running, since I’d run every day of Lent (note for sticklers: I missed out three days when Margaret and I went to Wells for the first weekend of Lent; Margaret had said strictly ‘There are no miles in Wells.’ But I had run every day for several days before Ash Wednesday, so that covers the missing days, plus I ran on Sundays, which are feasts). When I arose this morning, though, it just seemed to be the thing to do, especially since I was planning on a big Easter breakfast. So I set off in clear 10° weather, my joints protesting mightily during warm-up, but functioning agreeably once I buckled down and started my mile (9:47).
Then Margaret and I began a morning of watching and listening to Easter Sunday services: a recording of Easter Sunday last year from Christ Church, New Haven, our spiritual base camp in the States; the Eucharist for Easter Day from St Mary’s Chalgrove with St Helen’s Berrick Salome (for whom I recorded the sermon); and All Saints, Margaret Street. All that piety works up an appetite, so I had a delicious avocado and cheese sandwich (there goes our future home), and after a while some crisps. As an Easter indulgence, I frittered away the afternoon on the internet.
Now dinner, and Spooks, and an early night.