Month: July 2026

Woke up too early this morning after talking with Damian and Fiona late into the night — what a blessing they are! Ran my miles at a plateau pace (i.e., just about my rolling average), coffee and fruit, shower, Morning Prayer, home for coffee and toast, and it’ll be reading and writing for most of the rest of the day, as far as I foresee.

(I live in the UK, so wildfire smoke from Canada is not an issue, and smoke from local wildfires is mostly north of us.)

I walked my morning miles today, then coffee and fruit, will shower, Morning Prayer, then R&R. Then home, where I will concentrate on Mary Magdalene and a blurb about St James and a wedding homily — but not so much walking or socialising today.

Morning run (even better time) (my five-day rolling average hasn’t been this low since 5 June), hot breakfast, shower, Morning Prayer, home for another cup of coffee, back to church for Staff Meeting, home again for lunch, out for another home communion, back home for a break, then off to church for the evening’s Marriage Preparation class. Wheee!

Yesterday began with my run (continuing to return to previous form), coffee and fruit, Morning Prayer, public office hours at R&R, an appointment about a baptism, lunch, home communion (not our home but Fr Keith’s), home to ours, then a visit to Dalton Barracks (formerly RAF Abingdon) from which base our visitor’s great uncle flew his last mission in support of the Dambusters, according to his family lore.

Well, not entirely usual, as I’ll explain in a sentence or two. I did get up and run, at a decent pace, and thankfully it wasn’t too hot. Coffee, fruit, shower, Morning Prayer, public office hours at R&R and then an appointment at Costa. I’m home for lunch, and then will set off for a Home Communion.

After I get back, depending on how long our post-sacramental conversation goes, I’ll come home and spend the rest of the afternoon with our visitor (not ‘Our Visitor’, which would be an entirely different sort of event, but a visiting friend). Full day.

I got another good night’s sleep, blessedly. Since I didn’t wake up very early, I didn’t reckon I’d have time to run, have coffee, shower, dress, and get to church in good time, so I skipped the run again. I did then have coffee and fruit, showered, and grabbed a bit more coffee and walked to St Michael’s. After Mass, I rushed to St Nicolas’s for Holy Communion there. Home, cooled off, did some odds and ends, took a wee nap. We are watching Project Hail Mary. That’s a wrap.
Continue reading “Some Sunday”

The heat, the hours of standing, the persistent autophony, the audio hubbub, the accelerating exhaustion (along with the discomfort of having sweat through my clothes) wiped out the rest of my Friday, and I didn’t have much left energy left, even after a good night’s sleep the next day. I didn’t run; mostly, I worked out tomorrow’s sermon and let myself modulate back into an everyday state of energy and (dis-)comfort (heat-related). All okay.

I got a good night of sleep — almost seven hours — and ran a good time in my morning miles. Coffee, fruit, shower, dress (too fancy, because I wasn’t going back home before heading to Oxford), sweltered on my walk to (and opening up of) church, Morning Prayer, then caught the X3 to Oxford. The bus ride wasn’t too bad; the air wasn’t deadly still, and the bus made steady progress. Coffee at Love Coffee before looking in at Oriel, where I stayed for the rest of the morning because…

For the past ten days or two weeks, the Theology General Administrator’s office has been sending emails alerting theology staff and students that the new Schwartzman Humanities Centre would be closed to

all students, staff, and the general public

fro 9:00 yesterday evening to 2:00 this afternoon — without any explanation of why, but acknowledging that it involves security sweeps of the bulding. Ooooh… ? (Why is there no diacritical mark for modulating pitch to indicate a spooky secret? The three-quaver emotion is the closest I can think of, and it could just indicate ‘singing’, which in this case isn’t really the point.))

But those of us in the ambit of Oriel College have known, because we’ve been getting emails about an impending appearance of The Visitor. Yes, it sounds like a mysterious superhero, but in this case it refers to the British legal phenomenon of someone like the Chair of the Board of Trustees who exercises nominal charge over interpretations of the by-laws, appointments, committee memberships, and all that vitally important business. When The Visitor visits, it’s always a significant occasion, especially when The Visitor is, as in Oriel’s case, His Majesty the King.

So, being a good and faithful servant of the college, and supposing this to be likely the only time I’d be invited to such an event, I overdressed for the heat (underdressed slightly for the occasion, but even I have limits) and spent the late morning and early afternoon standing in direct sunlight to await the arrival of Charles the Third, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of his other Realms and Territories, King, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith — and most importantly, Visitor of Oriel College.

He entered the college, walked comfortably (given the heat) to the chapel, where our estimable Head of Theology and our exceptional Chaplain, and a good number of our undergraduate and postgraduate theologians, had the opportunity to converse with the monarch out of the sun (the Chapel remains admirably cooler than the outside world). After a while, all of us still standing outside in the sun, His Majesty emerged and walked to the adjacent Hall, where a grand painting of his mother the late Queen hangs; then after a shorter delay (presumably cos he was not talking to our impressive young theologians) he came to the portico over which his name is prominently displayed in stone letters. The Provost, Lord Mendoza, gave a very short welcome, then the King did what is incumbent on royals: he wandered along the periphery of the crowd, and shook hands with roughly half of the attendees. This included one elder priest-theologian:

After the King shook my hand, he was made his way to the gate (they opened the full huge wooden gate for him, so there was no risk of his stumbling as he stepped through the door-in-a-gate exit we usually use, not that I know anyone who has ever tripped on that doorway). Oriel served us all a splendid lunch on Second Quad (I can’t say enough positive about the way Oriel attends to the special dietary needs of… well, of me and I assume other odd ducks), and after conversing for an hour and a half, I realised that my Eustachian tubes were in armed rebellion, the ambient noise added to the autophony from my own ears, and the effort I was exerting to handle gracefully my circumstantial deafness and social exhaustion, meant that I had long passed the limit of my neurodiverse capacities. I excused myself, caught the X2 to Abingdon, went straight to the shower, and have been (in the vernacular) vegging out for the rest of the day.

Ran to a very good time this morning, drank my coffee and ate my fruit. Showered, Morning Prayer, then odds and ends for most of the drowsy morning (I had an hour+ wakeful spell in the night, and I’m feeling it). I think I’ll have a cup of coffee after lunch…

Whoops, I had a quick lunch and dozed off. Time for that coffee now.

The time for my morning run tailed off a little, but it’s still all right. Then coffee and fruit, a shower, Morning Prayer, coffee and toast, and I spent the morning writing tomorrow’s homily for the midweek Holy Communion service. I believe I will take a restful, refreshing afternoon, possibly making a trip to Waitrose to stock up on some good raw materials for weekly meals (plus Margaret’s Magnums). With luck, I’ll approach tomorrow’s very full day from a refreshed start.

I ran my morning miles at a good clip, had some coffee and fruit, and am about to shower. Then I’ll have a second cup, then will dash off to St Michael’s for the 9:30, then to St Nic’s for the 11:15, then to St Helen’s for a wedding rehearsal. Then home, thanks be to heaven.

Ran my morning miles at a good pace — better than an old plateau, not at peak level but plenty good enough considering my recent suspension of efforts. Coffee and fruit, shower, Morning Prayer, coffee and toast, tackling email and then heading to town, for Mike to trim my beard for a special occasion at Oriel.

Then home to bang away at Sunday’s sermon and to continue battling off the swarms of emails, and — if successful in so doing — maybe have a wee rest.

My joints and limbs declined to run this morning, so I walked and jogged my miles. Once home, I had my morning coffee and fruit, showered, opened up the church for Morning Prayer, meandered to town for public office hours at R&R, answered some emails (painfully slowly, because I am That Way), came home, strolled to St Michael’s for Thursday Low Mass (followed by lunch, but I just brought a can of soda), then home again for the rest of the day to work on sermons and no doubt to send out and to answer more emails.

‘O, philosophers may sing / Of the troubles of a King,
But of pleasures there are many and of worries there are none;
And the culminating pleasure / That we treasure beyond measure
Is the gratifying feeling that our duty has been done!’

If so for a King, presumably much more so for a mere vicar…