Month: October 2024

In a new personal best ill-judged decision, I went ahead and ran this morning despite the drizzle that was falling when I first checked the conditions. By the time I had put on my trainers, hoodie, and (I thought, cleverly) a windbreaker shell, the drizzle had gotten heavier. By the time I was out on Caldecott Road, I wondered whether it might not make sense just to turn around and go home. It would have made sense. I didn’t.

So, I did run my short route, as though one and a half saturated miles were significantly more sensible than two saturated miles. My glasses were rapidly coated with water, the temperature was such that they were partly steamed over much of the time, I kept stepping into puddles. Bad, bad, bad decision.

But there we are. A mile and a half, cup of coffee, fruit, and in a few minutes I’ll shower and dress for Morning Prayer, after which I expect to take coffee with Margaret at R&R, and get some real, grown-up work done. Out of the rain.

Woke up early, ran two miles in the 1° (‘Feels Like’) air, legs were all right and felt positively loose by the last 100 metres or so, but nothing to boast about. Coffee, fruit, shower, finalised the homily, to church for the 8:00 Mass, did odds and ends around the church till the 10:30 Mass, then coffee hour and a Newcomers’ Lunch in the Parish Centre. By the end of lunch, my social energy was redlining and a warning light on my dashboard was flashing.

So home I walked, and have been semi-napping, faffing about online, reading, and generally trying to recharge my betteries.

Having located my hoodie, and having woken about a half hour before rain was expected to resume, I had no excuse for not getting up and running. I was stiff and creaky, and I set a diffident pace, but I did run my two miles. My leg muscles and related tissues protested mildly at the end of the run, but all has turned out well. Now, coffee, Morning Prayer, shower, and a hot breakfast in my future (homily preparation as well).

So, AKMA, how did your retreat go? The retreat was lovely — Aylesford Priory is a splendid place for spiritual meetings, retreats, or what you will, though rooms in the Old House can be inaccessible indeed (I expect the rooms in the conference area are accessible). Mysteries of the Rosary were explored, Masses were celebrated, Offices were said, rosaries were prayed, and a fine opening dinner at a Turkish restaurant and a closing night out at the Little Gem (somewhat to the astonishment of the regulars, especially at the clergy women in our group) all contributed to a refreshing encouraging, and mostly holy retreat.

I returned directly to Oriel, where I arrived in time for the pre-pre-pre-dinner drinks (pre- with the theologians at Brendan’s study, pre- with the philosophers at Oliver’s study, we missed out a round of pre-, I think, in Third Quad, then to Fresher’s Dinner with all the rest. Alex, Mimi, Anna, Ottavia, Jesse, and Ashley all seem to be as promising and agreeable a cadre of Orielenses as we expect.

I didn’t run while I was away, and I didn’t run this morning, as Margaret had washed my hoodie while I was away, and I didn’t know where to find it, and I was not going to run in 1° weather in just my t-shirt. Margaret and I breakfasted at R&R, and I caught up on email and worked on oddments (including Sunday’s homily) the rest of the day.

And so to begin streaming Slow Horses (the most recent series, we’ve already watched the earlier ones).

I sat at my desk yesterday morning, fully intending to write a post just after I said Morning Prayer — but something distracted me, and off we go again.

Yesterday’s run was once again a ‘dead-leg’ effort, making my way past and through the set-up for Abingdon Fair. It was a surprisingly good pace for the feeling of it, but it did still feel as though I were lifting logs for legs. We attended the Mass at 10:30, then heard Fr Patrick Goujon talk about the relation of the Ignatian Exercises to Scripture. If someone had told me that I’d listen to a forty-five minute talk on the Spiritual Exercises that communicated clearly, taught me a nuance or two, and didn’t fly over the heads of the assembly, I’d have scoffed — but Fr Goujon succeeded famously. An excellent job, winningly presented.

This morning’s run was much more comfortable, though the Fair blocked various bits of the run, and my pace was not what it should have been considering how I felt. Coffee, fruit, shower, Morning Prayer, then off to Aylesford Priory for my annual retreat, till Thursday.

Not referring to our back garden, though that might be an even more apt referent for the title — just, my miles this morning felt dully slow, tired, ineffectual. I did run, however, so full marks for that. It’s expected to be rainy tomorrow, and I’m going on retreat from Monday till Thursday evening. Coffee, shower, coffee and breakfast and a phone conversation with Fr Paul. This afternoon I expect to spend time editing the essay, perhaps walking to a grocer with Margaret; no sermon to prepare for tomorrow morning.

I’m glad to know so many octogenarians, but… My father died at 72.* Jean-François Lyotard died at 74, as did Derrida. Wittgenstein was only 62, for heaven’s sake. We won’t count all my rock’n’roll heroes who died young.

Anyway, I really want to see that hermeneutics book written and published while I’m still around to enjoy the satisfaction of sending it out to the world. And then, maybe I can write something interesting for a change!

---

* My father had been a cigarette smoker most of his life. My mum, beset by MS and a smoker, lived to 82; my paternal grandfather (a man of significant gravity, and a smoker) to 88; my maternal grandmother, to 83; my aunts Isabelle and Grace, 82 and 95 (well done, Aunt Grace!); my Uncle Rich is going strong in his eighties, and Aunt Harriet is… well, I’m too discreet to say, but she gives me encouragement. So my family does provide reason for guarded optimism.

This morning brought the coldest morning since springtime, as my miles ran through 2° clear, lovely air. I thought my pace was pretty lively, but when I checked the time on returning I was mildly disappointed by how long I’d taken. Ah well, never mind. Running, coffee, shower, Morning Prayer, more coffee and a pain au raisin at R&R. I have some parish writing to do, but I’ll also set about cleaning up the essay I submitted Monday and revisit my old friend Wrede. And it will be a joy. Reading and thinking — oh my goodness, what a rich satisfaction.

Ran my miles this morning under cool clear skies, at a pleasing pace. Coffee, shower, Morning Prayer, then another cup of coffee with Margaret at breakfast in the town centre, at R&R; home now, till the [Adult Baptism and] Confirmation Class at 14:00. Working on the All Saints Sunday bulletin.

Oh, and something I forgot yesterday was that I’d spent a while taking photos of Fr Charles’s remarkable complete red Mass set, and drafting inquiry notes for possibly-interested clergy friends…

In order to catch up on this before I fall back to third-day blogging:
(a) I’ve run each morning, and somewhat to my surprise ran to a moderately satisfactory pace this morning;
(b) Went to the Parish council Monday evening;
(c) Worked up a sermon for this morning;
(d) Holy Communion this morning, then Staff Meeting, then work on the All Saints Sunday bulletin;
(e) Went up to Oxford Tuesday to have lunch at the Turf with (the Revd Dr) Jay and Dawn Phelan, showed them around Oriel, showed them the University Church, the Bodleian, and Blackwells;
(f) probably another thing or two, but it’s late and I’m sleepy.