AKMA’s Random Thoughts

We woke up execrably early this morning so that Margaret could catch the first flight to Boston out of Heathrow. That means catching the bus out of Abingdon, changing for the Airliner coach in Oxford, and arriving in good time for the international flight; added to the joys of early-morning multimodal transport this morning was a steady rain, though it let up for a few moments as Margaret was leaving the house.

I made a prudential decision that I wouldn’t try to drag my sorry self in to Oxford in the afternoon for the New Testament seminar, loath though I be to miss it. I didn’t want to fall asleep and topple over the in-built desks, or snore, or stay barely awake and spend the whole afternoon wishing I had stayed home. This way I can catch up on some work, prepare for tomorrow’s Wedding Workshop at the parish, and perhaps snag a wee nap to make up for the early (even by my standards) wake-up time.

I will not run my miles through a steady rain in single-digit temps. That’s a firm negatory. Instead I sdat and talked with Margaret about various aspects of her travel plans, what to expect when she gets to Pat’s house, and so on. I marked essays, listened to the Cardboards live at Charlie’s 10¢ Saloon (‘Ah, sonny boy, those were the days…’), and am about to leave for Oxford to give a couple of tutorials — then home to resume helping Margaret.

So, a busy day today. I ran my two (a decent time, actually, for a change), then coffee and fruit and cleaning up, then Morning Prayer, then back to church for a (long) weekly staff meeting. Then home to turn back to home-work. I’m cooking dinner for my sweetheart, then an evening of crime drama….

Margaret and I are both orphans, now. Yesterday at 8:00 EST/1:00 GMT, Patricia P Bamforth died in her sleep at her hospital in Augusta, Maine. I’ll post an obit later, but for now suffice it to say that we were neither surprised nor fully prepared. Just Saturday she had agreed to moving to a place in a very pleasant care home, and she seemed to be on a resurgence; but Sunday she had changed her mind and asked that all life support be removed, and Monday morning she gave over mortality.

…

I did not run yesterday; I did this morning, as part of reinscribing us in some sort of normal life, reasserting forward momentum to amplify the gyroscopic power of daily routines. We need all the power of dailiness to carry us onward, through the disconcerting memories and realisations of the last few weeks.

Full day at church — after having run my two miles and said Morning Prayer and showered and dressed, all before 7:15, I made my way to church for the 8:00 service. Then I came home to say Good Morning to Margaret, then back to church to walk through the special service for the Thanksgiving for Children, then the service itself in which I preached again, then a break before I led the parish Faith Forum on The Sacraments, by the end of which I was capital-K knackered.

Ran (walked part of) my two miles, Morning Prayer, hot breakfast, and now to work up a sermon for tomorrow and a Faith Forum on ‘the sacraments’ (‘On the Very Idea of a Sacrament’ for you Davidson aficionados).

I ran all three of the last mornings (short route on Wednesday, as I was short of sleep and a bit achey from so much standing up). I had been putting off blogging, partly because I have had a full plate of things to do and partly because I was hoping to be able to link to a recording of the service. That is still in the offing, I trust, but I can’t stall indefinitely. For now, the story is that I am well and truly licensed; it was a lovely service, including a psalm setting by Nate; my Wednesday then was a full-on work day. I’ve also had some marking to sort; that’s almost done. And I must work up a sermon for Sunday, when our parish observes Candlemas.

Life is good.

I ran my miles, of course, and had a cup of coffeee and fruit. Will take tea upstairs to Margaret, clean up, and head to Morning Prayer, then shop for groceries and return home to pass the day tidying and helping Margaret. And in the evening, will welcome parishioners and friends to the official beginning of my new ministry at St Helen’s, St Michael and All Angels’s, and St Nicolas’s. Be there, or be… whatever geometric solid you prefer.

Oh, and Sancte Carolus, Rex et Martyr, ora pro nobis!

Ran my short route this morning — just felt like it — and came home to coffee, hot breakfast, a leisurely clean-up and change into church clothes, morning Mass, for the last time not-as-staff.

This licensing business is beginning to seem like a classic mild, but utterly incongruous, English film comedy. The heart of the matter is an old codger who couldn’t get a job is being enrolled as a part-time member of staff here. Yet the Bishop of Dorchester, the Archdeacon, the Area Dean, the Mayor, the Deputy Lieutenant, and one or two other local dignitaries are all trooping up for the occasion. Add in a number of our friends from furth of Abingdon, and all the elements will, be in place for cases of mistaken identity, for mishaps with precious ceremonial items, visitors getting lost on their way to our somewhat tricky-to-navigate municipality.

And it’ll be my last for a while, since — if I read the rota correctly — I’m preaching at St Helen’s every Sunday for the next four weeks. Two more (chillier, 2°) miles in the book, cup of coffee, and about to say Morning Prayer. I expect Margaret and I will do some tidying up, as well, looking ahead to visitors on Licensing Day. Plus, time to push into essay-writing as well as homiletising…

Two miles, fruit breakfast, Morning Prayer, coffee in town (at Throwing Buns — gluten-free scones for Margaret), chemist’s, library for some books about the history of Abingdon, then into Oxford for the New Testament Seminar. It’s a long, long bus ride home at rush hour on Fridays, but then I’ll come home and put my feet up. After I cook dinner.