Author: AKMA

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!

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* 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.

Kate has endorsed ‘The Longest Day in Chang’An’, which I should be able to watch with English subtitles on Viki. I’m not counting on Margaret being interested, but I’ll definitely put it on my to-watch list.

The Met Office suggested that there’d be a brief window of no rain, or just drizzle, so I ran my short route — closer to a mile and a half than two miles — in what turned out to be consistent light rain. Curiously, the temperature is warmer outdoors than indoors (we haven’t turned our heat on yet, out of Yankee stubbornness). When I opened the front door on return, it felt as if I’d stepped into a refrigeration unit.

Coffee, fruit, shortly to shower and head to Morning Prayer.

Margaret arrived yesterday, safe and exhausted. She napped in the late morning and afternoon, and retired early last night (about ten hours ago and going strong). The dogs were ecstatic, and have been inseparable from her. They yap at her, which they typically do not with me (I’m the grouchy mean one), but it’s out of the canine version of love.

Woke up after a good deep sleep, ran my two miles at a good pace (with some starting and stopping as I responded to texts from Margaret, reporting on her overnight flight home), made a welcome cup of coffee and enjoyed a fruit breakfast. As I started out in the chilly air, the skies were radiant with a startlingly vivid red sunrise.

I’ll shortly toast crumpets and make another cup of coffee, then off to St Michael and All Angels for our patronal this morning. I’m hoping that Margaret will get home before I leave, so that I can welcome her with gentle hugs before she collapses into sleep on the daybed with the ladies — who will positively freak out to see her again after two long weeks.

All right, it’s evening already, but this is still just the second day after my last post, so… progress.

Ran this morning in the cold, and wasn’t it just? Both of the last two days I’ve settled for very modest paces, not really limber enough to push for a stunning personal best. I had a church-related meeting yesterday morning, then took things easy in the afternoon — I actually spent time reading a novel, The Framed Women of Ardemore House, a clever, small (which I usually mean in a very positive way), engaging mystery novel. Of course, there’s a murder; it has to be murder these days, not just theft or some other malfeasance. But at least there isn’t a crazed serial killer who provides an excuse for the author to expatiate on their pet theories about mental health and homicide. The protagonist is, like her author, autistic; I found this part satisfying, not overplayed nor tailored to sweeping generalisations about autism. I saw somewhere that it was promoted as the first in a series; everything has to be a series now, but I suppose that if one has put in the work to imagine a microworld and the personæ that populate it, you might as well set it to work for more than one novel.

Margaret arrives home tomorrow morning. I’ll be at St Michael’s patronal festival, but I’ll leave early to catch up with my sweetheart. I’m scheduled to open and close a ‘Devotional Concert’ tomorrow night; the nature of the event isn’t clear to me, but it’s important that the parish clergy remind the audience that we’re there, and perhaps even worth talking to or visiting. But did I mention that Margaret will be home?

And, Go Orioles!

I seem to have fallen into the habit of posting only every third day, at which I am dissatisfied; I will have to try harder to post daily. At least I haven’t omitted anything urgently vital.

I have run for the past three mornings, in drizzle, light rain, and very light rain respectively. My pace hasn’t been anything to boast about. That can be attributed in part to wanting to avoid slipping, and in part to that heavy-leg feeling, and partly to sheer indolence. On the other hand, my paces weren’t as bad as all that, and at least I kept going despite my disinclination.

I’ve kept busy with pastoralia and some academic writing. I got to the end of the first draft of my interdisciplinarity essay, and will send that off tomorrow, I expect. It wants editing to accommodate the stipulated style sheet, and there are three or four references that I want to work in (OK, I just thought of another, so five), but the core of the argument is laid out there. It’s a huge relief, and I’m hoping to nail the second overdue essay by year’s end, so that I can lean into the hermeneutics book.

Well, those three days went by in a whirl of sacraments and sermons and celebrations (and sleepiness). Friday’s wedding went very well, I think, and afterward I walked home and collapsed on the sofa out of overwhelming weariness. Saturday I devoted to reading Wrede and working on Sunday’s homily. Both days had good runs in the morning, and I got some rest on each. Yesterday’s morning service at St Nicolas’s was lovely; then I rushed home to feed the dogs and give them a chance to go outdoors in the back garden, then walked out to the Hilton Garden Inn for the retirement Parish Lunch in honour of Fr Charles, who was honoured indeed in speech and gift. Then home and back to church for the Healing and Wholeness service, and back home at last to dine and turn my brain off.

No run this morning due to heavy rain, but coffee and fruit and Morning Prayer and now to town for public office hours.

Both of the last two mornings have made the occasion for good runs. Yesterday my legs started out with that heavy, loggy feeling, but gradually relaxed and brought me home at a decent pace. This morning I limbered up more quickly, and wound up running the whole two miles at a very good pace. This means, of course, that tomorrow I’ll stagger along, perhaps tweaking my wobbly knees, breathing with desperate gasps; but the good days are good news, and I’m happy to bear with the bad days as preparation for the good.

Still busy — yesterday I had a catch-up meeting in Oxford and learned more about my Oriel teaching for the year. As I was leaving, I dawdled to chat with a falconer in First Quad, brought in to Send A Message to the pigeons and crows that beset our lovely buildings with nests, droppings, and other minor (but cumulative) avian vandalism.

Wedding rehearsal, then home to work on wedding homily, then walk the ladies, then collapse in a heap ahead of today’s busyness. Morning Prayer, wedding, and then at last some clear space… to work on Sunday’s homily.

Slept deeply last night, had a cool (unseasonably warm) run, but was interrupted at the end when Margaret texted from Maine that she had bent the wires of her glasses and was worried about getting them fixed during her already-tight timetable. Run concluded at a strong overall pace (excluding time for texting back); enjoying my coffee, about to cook a hot breakfast, Morning Prayer, I’ll come home to work on homilies and (heaven permitting) my summer essay, staff meeting, then prep for tonight’s Circle of Love session, then home to collapse in a heap. Good thing this is only a part-time job.