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…