Month: December 2024

Another three-day interval, in which I haven’t been too busy to blog, but quite the opposite — too relaxed and casual to blog. My runs have been cold and mostly adequate up till this morning, during which outing I mostly walked, as my knees were not having it. They weren’t painful so much as just not flexing and bouncing; it as as though instead of having proper knees, I had metal hinges mid-leg.

I did promulgate another public-domain digital edition recently. Alistair Stewart (now of Codrington College) noted to me that he’d have a use for a clean digital version of John Adamson’s sermon ‘The Duty Of Daily Frequenting the Publick Service of the Church’ (1698), so as a productive distraction I whipped through it. It’s now in my nook at the Internet Archive. To Adamson is also ascribed the authorship of ‘The Cavalier’s Farewell To His Mistress, Being Called To The Wars’ on the basis that the only extant manuscript copy of the poem is found in Adamson’s commonplace book, one he began in 1658. Anyway, one more item of Anglican documentary historical interest cleaned up and made more digitally useful.

At a satisfactory pace, no physical hindrances (though I turned my ankle a couple of times at uneven pavements, no lasting effect), but 5° in 100% humidity does get into your bones. I gave a penultimate once-over to an essay, and will begin once- or twice-overing another till the end of January, at which point I’ll send it in and then at last it’ll be all hermeneutics all the time (all the time that’s not owed to parish or teaching).

For the first time in several days, my morning run went moderately well. I ran freely, if not smooth- and bounding-ly, and my pace was good. I was not uncomfortable (apart from the chilly weather) and although one of my ankles wobbled just a little when I was starting out, everything went fine thereafter. Then fruit breakfast, coffee, and Morning Prayer (at home today), shower, then toast and a second cup of coffee. Off to a good start.

I wish every diary publisher were obligated to include December at the head of the next year’s calendar; I’m having to carry two diaries around with me to navigate these last few days of 2024, and it’s a nuisance, and I have a strong suspicion that I’ll lose one or another agreed occasion by looking at the wrong calendar.

I didn’t run yesterday morning; I needed the time for (a) allowing a lie-in after Tuesday’s Midnight Mass; (b) making pancakes for Margaret for breakfast; and (c) working out the homily for our 10:30 service, after being dissatisfied with the joined-up-ness (the lack thereof) in the late service’s homily. Honestly, I felt that the homiletical inkwell had run dry, and I was afraid that I would be reduced to liturgical dance or (shudder) some improvisational Thoughts for the Day. The sermon turned out all right, the service was lovely (if a little loose in its joints, as it were), and we had impressive numbers for both the midnight and the Christmas morning services — extremely reassuring, since Sunday services had been running a bit light. But all went well, hundreds of the Body of Christ gathered to receive the Body of Christ, and even the least satisfactory of the sermons from Sunday 4 Advent/Christmas Eve/Christmas Day was evidently pleasing to some in the congregation, so I’ll chalk that up as a job satisfactorily done.

After we got home from church yesterday we had leftover soup for lunch; Margaret took a nap, and I sat dozily in the living room until I experienced (and here I will steer toward delicacy rather than candour) a dramatic turn in digestive circumstances. I can’t think of anything specific I ate that would account for this; I suspect that it was part of my body purging the tensions and pressures of the past week(s). Whatever the cause, it was distinctly unpleasant, but (so far) short-lived. It did mean, however (to return to the point) that this morning I mostly walked my two miles, as my stomach didn’t relish being bounced up and down as I ran.

I didn’t run yesterday morning; I woke up early and realised that the sermon I’d prepared for the 10:30 service just wouldn’t preach, at least not that morning. That meant I had to come up with a sermon between 5:30 and 10:30, and I did at least cobble something together sufficient unto the day. Then we rested until evening, when the Big Coral Service happened — the church rammed full, the choirs in good form, and the greatest story ever told to narrate.

This morning I did run, though the ‘real feel’ temperature was -5°. Morning Prayer, early office work in R&R, pastoral visit, hurried lunch, home communion and a lot of storyplistening, and that’s a wrap for the 23rd.

I set out on my morning run in 5° temperatures, which Apple’s weather app assured me felt like 1°, and you will hear no argument from me on this point. I got about three-quarters of a mile in, when I noticed that the atmosphere around me was no longer simply cold, but had become cold and wet. by the end of my first mile, it was positively raining. At the same time, my legs were limber, my breathing was all right; the only problem came in drops from above. So, was it a good run? It all depends on the context.

We’re having a visit from our friend Ed this morning, and I’m hammering away at my homily before and after Ed’s visit. Then the last Sunday in Advent, with Mass in the morning and Lessons and Carols in the evening, and the beginning of Christmas week — whee!

Well, not quite four, because yesterday morning I took the short route. My legs do feel better and better — they felt actually good this morning — but I’m still working on my pace. Fruit breakfast, coffee, shower, Morning Prayer, in to Oxford to run three errands. The first was a washout — Christmas idea was impossible. Second was a washout — out of season (‘out of season’! This is a gift-giving season, I was shopping for a gift, ergo…). Third errand — washout. The package hadn’t been left for me where I’d expected. I went ’round to where it was to come from and asked, and the very wonderful staff shifted into full-on search mode: three possible locations later, they reported ‘It’s where you first stopped, but they didn’t know to look where it had been left.’ Third errand — delayed success.

Now, about that homily for Sunday…

This morning’s miles were strange. It’s not that often that I run in 20 mph winds, with gusts up into the 40s. My legs were stiff at first, then when they warmed up and I was running into headwinds, it all jst felt tiring. In the last third, I was loose and not so tired, though the wind was still blowing; and I settled into a slow-ish steady pace to get home. All in 12° weather, on this 18 December.

Hot breakfast, shower, Morning Prayer, a talk with one of my colleagues, home for a second cup of coffee, back to Mass, then the Christmas Lunch for the Wednesday service group, then home again to work on the service book for the Midnight Eucharist, then my daily Advent ink swatch and called it a day.

Two miles this morning with a small improvement. Coffee and fruit, Morning Prayer, searched the church and parish centre for someone’s eyeglasses. Groceries, then home, and some work on John Adamson’s Duty of Daily Frequenting the Publick Service. Another bit of housework, dinner, and that’s a day.

Two miles at a satisfactory pace (my quads were slow to get loose, and when they did open up they were tired and reluctant), coffee and fruit, shower, Morning Prayer, ‘office hours’ at R&R, work work work, home for lunch, a wee bit of work for a change, carol service at the Old Station House, and with any luck I’ll be able to knock off for the evening.

Oxford — and most ot he UK — has been swathed in heavy grey cotton wool for the past… well, for long enough that I can’t remember the last sunny day. This morning, though, around the time when Margaret was getting out of bed, there were definitely a few patches of blue sky (for a change).

Ran my two miles (adequate pace and condition), coffee and fruit breakfast, shower and dress for church, paperwork and morning Sung Eucharist for 3 Advent Year C at which I preached, eventually returning home for lunch and a relaxing afternoon. The skies turned grey again shortly after we noticed the blue areas; tomorrow there’ll be a fresh wave of parish obligations. But the short intervals of blue sky, of peace at home, restore a lot of what the overcast and frantic days drain away.

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Sermon for 3 Advent, Year C, at St Helen’s Church, Abingdon…

This morning I didn’t run, in deference to my mild grogginess after a late start (for me — 7:00) due to a late night at Oriel, holiday dining with the SCR. As I modulated into productivity I worked away on the service booklet for our Christmas Lessons and Carols, then wrapped up thje rough draft of our Midnight Mass booklet, then worked on tomorrow’s sermon for a while. I observed a lunch break during which we chatted with Thomas and Lydia, Si and Laura (and I opened today’s ink sample, Mint Twist). Then some errands with Margaret, arriving too late for the Saturday hours at the Abingdon Distillery, picked up USB night-light collars for Minke and Flora at Freddie’s Pet Store, and now I’m unwinding at the end of the day. Ahhh…

I don’t think Bill Watterson was referring to short-handed clergy life during Advent, but who knows? Historical probability isn’t the only criterion for interpretive aptness.

I’ve kept at my running, though my legs have only gotten good and loose one day this week, and my wind has been laboured most days. I have to remind myself that the point of the exercise is doing it, and at that I’ve been Olympic calibre. A lot of the week has been eaten up by working on special orders of service for the upcoming holy days. Our big day in January will be the Confirmation, Baptism, and Reception day mid-month, for which my colleague has already made up a booklet. I think I’m free of special service books till Ash Wednesday.

The time that wasn’t dedicated to service books has gone to admissions interviews for Oriel and to playing with ink. Interviews went very well, or at least as well as they can go when mediated by Teams rather than being done face to face. I’d look forward to working with any of the young people we interviewed, and especially the ones I cast my support to at the end of the day. We’ll know more about how this chapter turns out later.

The ink comes from an Inkvent Advent Calendar from Diamine inks: twenty-four tiny samples of exotic inks (shimmer, extra sheen, chameleon), with a special bottle for Christmas Day. So far the inks, pretty as some have been, aren’t as sparkly on my paper as they have been on others’ samples. I put this down to my not having the knack for writing with shimmery inks, and not having the sort of paper that shows them to advantage.

That’s a bit sad, but it’s useful knowledge; at least I won’t decide on sending an important note to His Majesty, intending that it be characterised by ‘extreme sheen’, only to discover too late that my pedestrian paper draws down the special qualities of the ink. I’ll see about slicker paper later on.

I haven’t forgotten how this thing works. One day of wedding and three days of furious business have kept me offline. I’ll get back tomorrow or Friday, I’m confident.

The marriage we’re attending today will fulfil the condition for ironicity proposed by Alanis Morissette: it is indeed raining on their wedding day. Whether ironic or not, Margaret and I will wish Alex and Niamh all the best and join in prayers for them, then will celebrate at the subsequent reception, and come back to our B&B full and exhausted. (We’ve already begun the process by digging in to the 10/10 breakfast, including gluten-free baked goods for Margaret).

Let’s see. I didn’t run Wednesday, because I had to catch a very early bus to catch an early train to get to the Tube in time to arrive early for a Sodality Day in Tooting. The day went very well, reminding us that although the sodality is a ‘dispersed community’, it remains a community united in sentiment and mutual affection, and we thrive when we gather regularly. (My remarks were very generously received.) I got home at about seven in the evening, and sagged into exhaustion.

Yesterday I didn’t run because it was raining, and even though I hate to miss consecutive days, I’m disinclined to run in cold rain. Call me a baby, but that’s just too much punishment. I caught the bus in to Oxford after Morning Prayer, gave my tutes and had a lovely lunch, hastened home and sorted some business.

Two miles this morning, though, and coffee and fruit, cleaned up and on my way to Morning Prayer, home and after a business call, off to a wedding.

Two miles went well, I think, this morning — followed by fruit, coffee, shower, Morning Prayer, more coffee, lots of banging my head against the Advent collects, interrupted by various parish responsibilities and even an academic responsibility or two. Off to London tomorrow!

Morning miles went more easily this morning. Whatever accounts for the difference between San Diego treadmill and Abingdon pavement, I seem to be adapting to Abingdon again. Yesterday’s services went well, I think, apart from a legendary face-off over who would read the fourth lesson at Lessons and Carols, conducted right at the lectern! Margaret observed that if we lived in an Agatha Christie novel, one of them would be found in the Thames this morning.

Coffee, fruit, Morning Prayer, then office hours at R&R, home for lunch, service at Bridge House, home, and working on my Advent Collects preso for the Sodality on Wednesday…

This morning’s miles were again diffcult, which seems counterintuitive; two miles is two miles, and I ran them every day in San Diego apart from the last, and I resumed running here two days later — so I’d think I shouldn’t have such persistent difficulty resuming running at a generally limber way. I’ve certainly had longer intervals of not-running followed by relatively smooth re-entry. Perhaps the biggest difference from years past involves the number of gargantuan American restaurant meals I had in San Diego….