‘…the earth was dry.’

What to say? Saturday we stayed indoors, at home, in deference to the flood waters. I didn’t run (though of course I could have taken a different route that stayed clear of the rivers); it just seemed more sensible to stay at home, indoors, while I hammered out a sermon and Margaret and the dogs hunkered down together.

I slept late on Sunday — all the way to 6:30! — and gave the sermon a last edit before church; then I cleaned up and walked the dogs before we were picked up for our trip to Swindon in the morning. Our unambitious walk revealed that the waters had receded and our way across the Iron Bridge was clear. Then we gathered up my vestments and sermon and rode to Swindon with our host, Fr Toby Boutle. St Mark’s welcomed their guest preacher very warmly, and we had a delightful Sunday dinner with Fr Toby and Roy, and with Fr Ross Copley (Victoria was unwell, and Fr Tim and Lois are on holiday). It’s an honour and a blessing to see my former students flourishing in their ministry, and the Swindon parish (including St Mark’s, St Saviour’s, St Luke’s, and the chapel at St Aldhelm’s) has stabilised and grown and has put down sturdy roots with Fr Toby and his team.

Slept like a champion, got up to run my two miles, cup of coffee, and will shortly set out for Morning Prayer and a meeting with my rector. A new day, a new week begins.

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