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And such an afternoon before it!

The wedding was lovely — gosh, I’m going to miss weddings whenI retire — with a willing congregation, a lovely couple (of course), an ensemble of exceptional musicians (along with our own director of music), and distinctive readings, making for another banger of a wedding in this summer o’ matrimony. Incidental music included a performance of Stephin Merritt’s ‘The Book of Love’, which I would not have ventured to program, but which was very affecting in the context. The music was an exceptional high point; it would be great if it had been recorded, but that was not to be, and we are left with the evanescent memories of a unique sacramental occasion.

After the wedding, I hustled homeward, freshened up, changed ecclesiastical garments for formal social occasion raiment, and celebrated Oriel College’s 700th anniversary at an Alumni Ball.

There we met our parish neighbours Brendan and Rosie Harris, a contemporary of Rosie’s, Anatole Sloan, a more recent former student of mine Sea Yun Pius Joung (currently undertaking doctoral study at a benighted institution in the Fens) (he kept saying, ‘At our sister college!’ as if that obviated the stained escutcheon of association with the eastward-fleeing tutors), internet acquaintance Madeline Odent, and John Ritzema.

Dinner of satay grilled aubergine and rice was terrific, though the lights kept dimming abruptly.

Strolling around the three quads, acknowledging six interlocutors who ‘love your hat!’, watching the ceilidh, encouraging the rock and jazz bands, feeling both a little younger, going to such a party, and a little bit older, tiring out sooner than we used to.

This morning I did not even try for a run, but had a good sleep till almost seven o’clock, made a hot breakfast, gave my sermon (posted below) a look-over and edit, and headed to St Nic’s for Mattins.

After Mattins, I hopped over to Waitrose to pick up some groceries. On my way, a friendly bicyclist pulled over before me and asked whether he might ask a question. He had no doubt about God’s existence — he is a faithful Muslim, he said — but for the past twenty years or more, he felt that God had withdrawn from the world. Was he abandoned??
I had seen him in the square busking, so I took a flyer and suggested that distant as God might seem, that he knew that good still remained in the world cos he played music. Though he might not see signs of God, he knew that the chords he played, the melodies and harmonies communicated something of God’s glory, and his participation in making that music gives the best reason he could have to trust God. That set his mind at ease, at least for the now.

On my way home, two lads were sat across the road from me in front of St Helen’s. They clocked me and exchanged a few words with one another, then one called out to me, ‘Bonjour!’ Ipaused for a second and answered, ‘B’jour!’ and they said it again, and I answered again. ‘Ça va!’ they said; ‘Ça va bien!’ I replied.

And came home.
Continue reading “Such A Night”

To be honest, it was another slow jog; I didn’t run at all yesterday as it was rainy, so today’s run was beset both by the punctuated inactivity due to weather (welcome rain) since our holiday and by the annoyingly persistent cough-and-cold that began ten days or so ago. Still, I did slow-jog my morning miles, made coffee and grabbed some fruit, and am now cooling down and taking a break from contemplating tomorrow’s sermon. I hope ‘contemplating’ will help, since ‘racking my brain and typing any old nonsense that occurs to me’ didn’t get me very far yesterday.

It’s important that I come up with something this morning, ’cos I have a wedding this afternoon, and the Oriel College 700th Anniversary Alumni Ball this evening. (The Rector has graciously taken over tomorrow’s early service for me — otherwise I might have stumbled into an involuntary all-nighter.) That does mean, however, that I’ll have precious little time after this morning to devote to homiletical preparation.

Both the wedding and the ball should be splendid indeed, if I’m not too worn out to enjoy them. The wedding will feature some world-class musicians (theorbo!) contributing their gifts to the celebration, and the Ball will involve all manner of festivities that I don’t expect to participate in (‘Me? Dancing? In this economy?’) but I hope to meet some former students and hitherto-unfamiliar alums. And food and wine to Oriel’s typical standard.

The weather has been threatening rain since I woke up an hour or so ago, so no run today (if had known that it wouldn’t rain…). Coffee and fruit, put the rubbish bin out, shower, Morning Prayer, home for coffee and toast, and work on Sunday’s homily (knocked out tomorrow’s homily yestereday). Wedding rehearsal this afternoon.

Our Oxford pocket diaries were announced as being shipped from 28 August (late, but okay), then after I preordered them to receive them ASAP, that was shifted to 2 September, and now they’re slated to be shipped on 16 September — just a couple of weeks before term-time. I spent an hour or so yesterday afternoon improvising a few extra weeks to add to my now-expired last year’s diary to tide me over to the actual arrival. Honestly, the days of the year, and even the dates of term, are not secret. They’ve been set for ages — how does it take Blackwell’s OUP to the last moment to get the diaries ready?

Tuesday morning I felt as though the fog was lifting, the clouds parting, and the head cold was dissipating to a moderately comfortable condition. Yesterday morning I woke up after a short, frustrating night without even the energy to walk my morning miles, impatient for my morning cup of coffee. pulled myself together, went to Morning Prayer, came home for a second cup and a slight resting time before the weekly staff meeting (which resumed this week after August’s end). The remainder of the day I napped and started reading There Is No Antimemetics Division.

All of the above included regrettable amounts of coughing and nose-blowing.

I didn’t sleep especially well last night, either, but I got six hours, and I’ll nap more today. I jogged — slowly — my morning miles, without breaking stride into a walk. And I’ll finish Antimemetics, qntm (the author-nym) has written so intensely cleverly that I almost lose track of the sorrowful plot and the doomed characters. I only have a little left to go, and I look forward to not having to think so hard as I read! I’ve also been listening to ‘It’s a Superpower??’, the comic podcast by and for autistic people, which I’m enjoying so far.

I started out this morning with the goal of running my whole course, but after a short while I began coughing and snuffling, so we must mark today in the record-books as ‘ran and walked’. Then coffee, fruit, shower, Morning Prayer, coffee, toast… and a nap….

We were repeatedly cautioned that there would be no public Morning Prayer today, for the Bank Holiday, so when I woke up this morning I said the Office while making my morning walk (I’m warming up to running, but my lungs and sinuses are still congested from the head cold). Came home to coffee and fruit, cleared some email (some left to answer), paid the TV licence, fed the dogs and put them out and let them in. In a short while I’ll make coffee and toast…

Just as I’m beginning to feel better, as my coughs become productive toward clearing my chest, and my head is less congested, as I can sleep through the night (pretty much), Margaret has fallen ill to the contagion I had been spreading around the household for half a week. WE’re hacking away, feeling worse or better, but fully sympathetic each to the other.

I haven’t run in ages. It’s difficult to imagine when I next will run, though I fully expect that Monday or Tuesday I’ll feel healthy enough to give at least a gentle run. Last night I slept almost seven hours, which is great for me even in full health. Apple’s ‘Sleep’ measurement docked me because I woke up several times, presumably when I was coughing, but I don’t remember any sleeplessness. Still, I get drowsy way early

I’ve been preparing for tomorrow’s sermon for St Nic’s 8:00 and St Helen’s 10:30. I used an idea I preached with twenty-one years ago, but the lectionary has changed since then (which threw a spanner in the turning point of the sermon), but I’ve reworked it thoroughly, so even if Past You were there, and even if Past You has filled Present You in on all the details, you probably won’t remember what Past You heard when you listen to Present AKMA.

But I still need to cash up on sleep.

Please excuse the last few days of radio silence. In the aftermath of the very wonderful wedding on Monday, the parish had a funeral Tuesday, I came down with a whopper of a head cold, and the process of upgrading to WordPress 7.1 went awry somewhere along the line, so I couldn’t even post an apologetic excuse. I still have the cold, but WordPress is back online (of which this is a demonstration).

I walked this morning, rather than running. I’ll spend the rest of the morning, after Morning Prayer, working on and polishing the homily for today’s wedding, and then I’m off to the event, and afterward to the wedding breakfast. Full day today, full day tomorrow, hoping I’ll have a restful Wednesday.

Blog: Yesterday I woke up early to get Lee to the cab to the train to the Tube to the flat in London where she’d been staying to the Tube to the airport (she’s now back in the States), and spent the rest of the day in a haze, napping and waking and doing hardly any useful thing at all until Margaret and I bestirred ourselves to go to the Abbey Theatre to see the new Spiderman film. On the way, I asked Margaret if she’d like to stop at the Cooperative to buy sweets before the film, and she demurred on the basis that ‘[she’s] a ninja about this’, alluding to Tom Coates’s ‘ninja/pirate, dwarf/elf’ typology of characters. I note this because in looking up the link, I saw that Tom posted that to his blog twenty-two years ago, and I blogged about it two years later (at which point it was already solid family lore).

This morning, I ran my miles to a standard slow-plateau rate. I had my coffee and fruit, will make tea for Margaret and then shower, another cup of coffee (this time with toast), then off to church. I have a wedding rehearsal this afternoon, which reminds me that I must prepare the homily today!

Thursday morning I resumed my usual running, and came in a little slower than my slow plateau speed. Coffee and fruit, then to my GP to ask about my problems with autophony. She was terrific: very good listener, alertly sympathetic (not just nodding and making concerned noises, but really pursuing symptoms and chasing down causes), and eager to get me help. The appointment brought three outcomes. First, I have a referral to an ENT; second, she expressed cautious scepticism about several possible causes for my autophony; and third, she encouraged me to inquire about ADHD, and sent me information on obtaining an assessment.

After I got home, to our great joy, our goddaughter Lee came to stop by for an overnight. We had a brilliant time catching up with her; even though we’d seen her at Nick and Noël’s wedding, we didn’t get much of a chance to talk extensively. We took her to the Nag’s Head for lunch, talked into the afternoon, then walked home and talked to the early evening when Margaret re-rewatched The Sheep Detectives with Lee.

Yesterday morning I ran a bit faster, prepared my usual coffee and fruit, showered, and went to morning Prayer, thence to R&R for public office hours. Lee didn’t come with us, because she, sadly, had the beginnings of a migraine, which intensified over the course of the day and ultimately obviated her plan to catch an afternoon train back to London before her return to the US. A lot of the afternoon and evening Margaret and I spent brainstorming (as it were, ouch) about new plans for getting Lee back to London in time for her to pack and pick up baggage that she had not brought along to Abingdon.

So, this morning I woke up at 4:30, made coffee for Lee, connected her to her cab, and have spent the morning semi-conscious, semi-deliberate. I did make myself coffee and a hot breakfast, and later will take a nap. That much is for sure.

Woke up at 5:30 — the power of routine being what it is — and went for a gentle run-walk, easing myself back to real exercise. It’s just as well I did; various bones, joints, and muscles let me know that they doubted the value of this so-called ‘exercise’, and pouted when I persisted in running or walking. Still, my tie didn’t differ drastically from a slow day’s running, and as I passed Albert Park (a) I glimpsed the encampment of Travellers there (very concerning to Christ’s Hospital, which owns the park; I haven’t heard any parish feedback about it) and (b) a dog-walking pedestrian who waved as if he recognised me, though I didn’t see him clearly enough to clock his identity.

Returned for my cup of coffee. We have no fruit in the larder, so I drank coffee unsupported by breakfast fruits, then showered, then attended Morning Prayer and strode home for my second cup and for toast.

While catching up with email, I discovered that our Monday photographer had indeed emailed her photos to me, but our email agent (a formerly famously anti-evil corporation, now dismissing every impediment to villainous world domination) had consigned the images to the spam bin! Can you believe it? This is what a long-haired, beardy priest-theologian looks like after fifteen or twenty minutes in the Bristol Channel/Irish Sea/Atlantic Ocean:

I have a morning appointment with my GP to see whether I should be referred to a specialist about my ringing ears (not so much tinnitus, though what rock’n’roller doesn’t have at least a little tinnitus? More like patulous Eustachian tube dysfunction, though I’m not presuming any specific diagnosis), and various catching-up obligations to sort through the remainder of the afternoon, but I’ll try to keep things cooool as I modulate back into parish life.

Yesterday was the last day of our holiday in Tenby. We had our usual astoundingly sumptuous breakfast at The Townhouse (bless you forever, Huw!), got a slow start to the day, traipsed in to town where we looked in here and there, choosing after a while to enjoy chips and midday drinks while people-watching at a restau-pub, then returned to the Townhouse for a siesta, and — spontaneously — decided to take a last dip in the sea/channel/ocean (depending on how you define your bodies of water and their boundaries). Even I immersed myself, which says a lot, considering what a grumpus I am about beaches. On emerging from the billows, we asked a charming couple with small children to take photos of us and email them to me; alas, this has not worked successfully, so you and I will never know how absurd I look when soaking wet. (I haven’t been sea-swimming in years, maybe decades, bar just possibly having swum at Knockbrex, but not more than once at that).

This left us with a challenge regarding how we and our clothes would dry off, having neither beach towels nor proper bathing gear, but between patient bench-sitting in the sun (not ‘hot’ or even ‘warm’, really, but it took the edge off the breezy seasonable temperatures) and Margaret’s ingenious fan-drier MacGyvering, everything was dry and packable by the next morning. Cleaned and dried off, we celebrated with a last dinner in town, returned, and fell fast asleep. It turned out to be one of those wake-up-every-hour-to-be-sure-it-wasn’t-time-to-leave nights, but we had retired early enough that net hours of sleep was still good. I’d been sleeping like a hibernating bear most of the week, showing that when I don’t have a demanding timetable I am indeed capable of getting seven hours in — but yesterday was not one of those nights.

Today we woke at six o’clock, gathered our bags, trudged reluctantly to the rail station, bidding Tenby a very fond farewell, and from the 7:40 to Cardiff Central to alighting from the X1 back to Abingdon at about 20:30, we spent most of the day in seats on trains and buses, apart from rushing to change trains or to catch said bus. Moreover, the second half of the day involved the rail trip from Peterborough (where lives the only dog carers Margaret trusts with Minke and Flora) back to Abingdon. Minke and Flora are not good travellers; indeed, it would be unfair to tar Flora with the same brush as Minke since, by and large, Flora just prowls a bit and lets out an occasional single bark of frustration or discomfort. Minke, on the other hand, whimpered, moaned, yipped, jumped around, and otherwise made life uncomfortable for us and everyone else in the rail car for most of the journey.

By the time we got home we were knackered, hungry, groggy but not sleepy, and stiff. We snacked for a while, then sleep got the better of us and ended our day. Back to normal tomorrow, whee!

We went to church yesterday, about which I will withhold online comment. Had soup and sandwiches after, strolled some more, returned, rested/napped, stepped out again for a Thai dinner (we haven’t had Thai dinner in literal years), roamed homeward, and called it a day. A restful, satisfying day.

Doing a lot of not much, recharging, unwinding, spending time with Margaret. This is good.

Today wasn’t a big day for us; we mostly just walked around town, ate, and rested. On the other hand, though, before our rest interval Margaret set aside time for a swim, a real swim in the ocean, for the first time in years. (I was on a fool’s errand, or I’d have joined her — there’s still time!). Though the mystic weather wallahs had forecast a cooler day, the full sun and the walking around and the only slightly lower temperatures combined to make our day plenty hot enough.

We picked up some stackable groceries and took naps, then targeted a specific pizza place where we lucked into the only outdoor table, dined on very good pizza, and meandered homeward in the setting sun’s light. Another pleasant day (especially for M.).

Every store we walk past posts a handmade sign announcing that they lack any stock of shades approved for use in viewing astronomical events involving the sun. (footnote 1: I delighted in this BlueSky thread — apologies if you don’t have a bsky account) (footnote 2: I know that’s not a footnote, and neither is this, but until someone develops a reliable, accessible footnoting mechanism for WP blogs, I’m sticking with this terminology).* This photo in particular won the thread for me.**

Returning to our experience this morning, Margaret (wanting to be sure) asked the proprietor of a local Londis, who responded, ‘If I’d had any, I could have sold three thousand’, a response which gave me a lot to think about.

No run this morning, just some walking around.

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* I’ve done this before, but apparently this time I felt the need to be lazy. You can see where that got me.

** That is from bsky also, but how many times shall I apologise for your not indulging my social media venue?

Mike and Flora are on the train to their home away from home in Boston (UK). Minke has been whimpering for the entire trip. Luckily, we have not been thrown off by impatient commuters.

I’m hoping, at least, that today proves not to be manic. My morning run came in at a good time (best but one since 1 May), I had my coffee (we’re out of fruit), showered, joined Morning Prayer at church, held abbreviated public office hours at R&R. Margaret has to take Flora in for another check on her recent dental surgery, so I’m Minke-sitting. I’ve mocked up and sent a wedding bulletin, emailed for more information from yesterday’s baotisand, and in a little while will have a bite of lunch. Perhaps I’ll nap for a few minutes to make up for a short night.