Missing the eclipse

Inspired by something I read in The Road to Grantchester I led Zac's on the theme of the First Supper. After his resurrection Jesus walked and talked with two disciples on the road to Emmaus and they didn't recognise him. It wasn't until he joined them for supper and broke bread that they realised it was him. Which is pretty weird. 

So I got groups discussing times when they'd felt God hadn't been with them or when they knew he had been. I provided shared communion plates for them to nibble on while they chatted.

I think it was worthwhile. People on the whole seemed open and there was plenty of discussion going on. However it will probably be remembered for the time that one man told us his story of being hospitalised and in great pain. (He's actually told this story at least four times before, adding extra bits each time, this time it being while he was in agony the nurse wandered in 'smoking a fag'. No, I don't believe that either but I was very restrained and didn't say anything. He is the man I have mentioned before, not my favourite person.) Anyway to get back to his story. He couldn't remember the word so he said, "They stuck a caterpillar up my thing."

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Yesterday it was Zac's retreat day at Rhosilli. We began with led prayer and contemplation in the church. That was good. I still have to work through some of the things raised.

Then we went for lunch in a nearby café - very yummy Welsh rarebit - followed by a walk out to the point. Not to the Worm itself. It was very hot and there were loads of people. I don't think I've been to Rhosilli on a hot summer's day before and I won't be going again!

We were given a mini art kit as part of the retreat so when we got out to this spot I sat down and painted the Worm. 

I can see now I got all the proportions wrong. But I enjoyed myself! Except it was quite breezy and the lid of my paintbox blew off the edge of the cliff. I'm sorry about littering but I wasn't going to scramble down the steep rocks to rescue it. I wouldn't even go that close to the edge of the cliff.

After that it was back to the church via the ice cream shop for discussion about the future. 

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There was a great deal of excitement everywhere yesterday as we prepared for a partial eclipse in the evening. The sun was just about visible over the hedge from one corner of our garden so we duly rushed out to watch. 

I had my colander ready.

But then decided I'd watch it through my phone. Husband meanwhile was watching it by squinting through sunglasses. Yes, I know he shouldn't have done that but I've given up telling him to take expert advice: he is THE expert.

"Is it time yet?" I asked.

"What do you mean is it time? It's almost finished."

I saw absolutely nothing that resembled any sort of eclipse. I've since seen peoples' photos and it's very impressive. So it's official: I missed the eclipse.

Figs and roses

Well that was a shock to the system.

I got up and out to Sainsburys early (9.30). I haven't been on a big shop there for ages relying these days on delivery or Click & Collect. They've changed locations and labels and, oh, you know, there were people. It was quiet when I got there and very quiet at the far end of the store by the time I reached that. But then I had to go back to the beginning to pick up something I forgot, and the noise, and the people. Urgh.

It's back to delivery for me. I only went this time because I'd forgotten to do an order and needed things for this evening.

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I don't know if anyone's following events in Clacton this week. The current MP stood down to avoid a parliamentary investigation into his finances. I refuse to mention his name but he was leader of the Reform party and is a thoroughly horrible chap. Since being MP for Clacton I am led to believe that he's not held any constituency meetings and his appearances in parliament have been rare, as he prefers to go to America to show his support for T***p. Enough said. 

Anyway having resigned and necessitated the expense of a by-election, he's standing again. The other major parties refused to put a candidate up against him and his main opposition comes from a man in a dustbin. Count Binface has stood as a joke candidate in any number of by-elections but this time he actually has a chance of winning. One poll put him ahead of he-who-shall-not-be-named (HWSNBN) and I don't mean Voldemort. 

Count Binface is actually an Oxbridge-educated writer and someone who would do a good job. Sadly it's not really very likely that he'll win but HWSNBN will either lose to a bin or re-become an MP and have to face the investigation - and possibly end up in prison. They say he thought that if he resigned and then was re-elected he wouldn't have to undergo the scrutiny, which is why he pulled this stunt.

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Countering culture

One good thing about blogging is that when I think to myself, "Why I am so tired?" I can look at my blog and say, "Ah, that's why I'm tired."

Daughter and family were out for the afternoon yesterday so she asked if we'd take Louie for a short walk so he wouldn't be alone too long.

These photos seem to have a funny 'texture'. Do they look weird to you? It was cloudy but very warm. That's Pobbles (foreground) with Three Cliffs behind, and just a tiny glimpse of Oxwich in the far distance.

Church this morning asked some hard questions about how the church can be countercultural in today's society regarding sex, money, and power. I was asked what countercultural meant.

This coming week I have writing group Tuesday afternoon but I've managed to get someone else to lead as I'm leading Zac's in the evening. Then on Wednesday we have a trustees' retreat day. Oh, and next Saturday I'm going to a print workshop. In between I'll be getting ready for our next trip to Italy.

I've just finished reading The Road to Grantchester by James Runcie. It tells the story of how Sidney Chambers ended up as vicar there. It is a very well-drawn and realistic, I think, war story as well as a tale of faith and hope. Highly recommended. How anyone went through the war and stayed sane is beyond me.

A funny old week

It's been a funny week. I haven't felt like blogging and that is most unusual. Let's have a quick recap.

Monday: did nothing.

Tuesday: Had phone call from lady from department of works and pensions. As it happened we'd overslept and I'd only just taken one mouthful of my weetabix when she rang. She offered to call back but I said no. Easier to get it over with.

She was very nice, not entirely sure what she was doing. Apparently she was new to the team dealing with pensions. She said if it had been benefits she knew all the questions - and answers - off by heart. It was very straightforward anyway. Mostly names and dates of birth of birth of husband and children. But then she said, "It seems your wages dropped by £3,000 a year in 2005 and then by £4,000 in 2007. Can you explain why?"

Seriously? That's twenty years ago. I can barely remember what I did yesterday. I think we worked out that I'd cut my hours once but there was no explanation for the other drop. She said it was probably okay but if it wasn't they'd call me back. No-one's called so I guess it didn't matter.

In the afternoon I went for ice cream - in Fortes as Verdi's is still closed following the fire - with Elin, a young doctor, still in training who was traumatised after spending six months in intensive care. Definitely her least favourite department.

Tuesday evening Zac's. Monty had put his talk together over the course of two days and managed to speak for one hour, virtually non-stop. I don't know how anyone can do that. No, actually I know several people who can talk.

Wednesday: Went for coffee that turned into a walk around the park with Jordan, our church pastor. He gave me most excellent feedback, and we had a wonderful discussion about scripture, bible study, church, and stuff. Then, when we'd completed about seven eighths of the route he said, "I want to ask you a question."

Oh oh, I thought. But he wanted to know if I would consider becoming a deacon. I hadn't expected that.

It seems he's had me in his mind for the role for best part of a year. I am tempted to do it because he wants me too. It is so lovely to be appreciated. When I left my previous church to concentrate on Zac's they had me up the front to pray for me. I was asked to say a few words so I started to say that Sean had made me one of the study leaders but that as the rest of the congregation were addicts or disillusioned or mentally unstable (or words to that effect) , "Then you were the best of a bad job. He didn't have a lot of choice," the then leader of the church chimed in. 

I mean that's what I was going to say but it's one thing me saying it and quite another when my church leaders says it, to a huge laugh. Not that I'm bitter or anything!!!

So I need to find out some more about what being a deacon entails. I think he wants to get me in because he knows I think as he does on questions of vulnerability and honesty, maybe more so than the other deacons. I was going to say older but I would actually be the oldest one! I meant those who've been there for years.

In the afternoon I went to the memorial service for a Big Issue seller who had a stand in Sketty by our local shops. He was a lovely man although I didn't know him well - he told me he loved my chilli when I used to make it for Zac's - and there were lots of beautiful tributes from local people who valued his smile and friendly words.

Thursday: The organiser of a retreat day came to see me to discuss what we want to do at our retreat day. It's happening next week for Sean, the heart behind Zac's, Stu, the manager and future of Zac's, Colin, a prospective trustee, and me, trustee.

Then it was off to Rough Edges for the day to help sort out out what's left after the two big closing down sales into things for recycling, things for salvage, things for a charity shop, and miscellaneous. We're going to need another skip sadly.

Friday: went for an early morning swim at Pobbles with Daughter and GrandDaugher2 (and Louie). We took our body boards as there were waves yesterday but today it was just about flat. A lovely swim though.

I kept spotting little purple blobs around the garden.

Husband explained it's the poo of birds who've been eating blackberries.

And that's done

Last night I dreamed I was due to preach in church this morning but I'd gone to a different church and, for some reason, we were climbing up a very tall tower. It wasn't even a stone tower but a soft cloth one. We were at the top when I realised I was supposed to be preaching somewhere else. So, no, I wasn't stressed at all.

I've been quite calm in the run-up but was a bit trembly this morning. I'm pleased to report it all went okay. Jordan, the pastor, said I was brilliant - but he would say that - and Monty, the reason I'm in this church, approved of what I said, and agreed with my slightly off-topic add-in about the infallibility or otherwise of the scriptures.

I also managed to get my article off to the editor before the deadline so I can think about other things now.

I remember, I didn't tell you: there was a fire in Verdi's! That's the ice cream parlour that my friend and I always meet in. It's very strange: over the last few years there have been fires in the pier chip shop, the pier café, and now Verdi's. Maybe it's an arsonist who doesn't like tourists/people who eat chips/people who eat ice cream. 

The dilemma it causes: where shall Vivien and I meet now?

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Tomorrow I plan to do some gardening and start work on bringing together the writing group's writing for Ukraine. Did I tell you that we're planning to publish a small book of writing to raise funds and, primarily, remind people that the war continues?

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I harvested the rhubarb yesterday afternoon. Made a rhubarb and raspberry crumble for us and took the rest to church for others today.

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In case you're interested, here's the recording of my 'sermon' this morning. 

Liz Hinds · preaching on 2 peter

Books and blooms

I have got through a slew of Icelandic books over the last few weeks. I noted them when we were there and finally got round to getting them from the library or the shop.

Butterflies in November by Audur Ava Olafsdottir is about a road trip around Iceland a newly-single woman takes with her best friend's deaf son. She is a linguist who doesn't want children, and one of her reasons is my favourite line in the book.

"Your kids vanish into the bushes of camping sites, without even giving you a chance to browse through a thesaurus in peace by the entrance of the tent, because you're always on watch duty I imagine."

Farewell Mr Puffin by Paul Heiney is about a sailing trip to Iceland and into the Arctic Circle, and back. It's more sailing info than I would like and not as funny as I expected. That said there are entertaining moments. He goes in search of puffins, 'the jokers' of the bird world, but comes across only one resulting in a rather depressing theory.

The other two, The Quiet Mother by Arnaldur Indridason, and The Mysterious Case of the Missing Crime Writer by Ragnar Jonasson, are both crime novels but not as gruesome as some Scandi noir. I preferred The Mysterious Case.

And I've just started on a Grantchester novel - although actually it appears to be several short linked stories - which is easy reading and I'm enjoying it.

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The day before we went to Italy back in April three plants I'd ordered online turned up. I stuck them in the ground quickly and hoped for the best.

They were achillea (I had to check my order to see what they were) and they've all flourished. Here's the pink one next to my sole dahlia success.

Before going on holiday I also came across two packets of seeds I'd forgotten to plant so I scattered them willy-nilly in a spare patch. The marigolds have come up beautifully. I shall plant those again next year.

I think the other packet was Cosmos but they haven't appeared.

Meanwhile the roses seem to love the dry weather.

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Another 'before I went on holiday' story but this time before I went to Cornwall. I received a letter from the DWP (department of Works and Pensions) to say my state pension is being reviewed. 

Apparently I have been chosen at random and I have to be available next Tuesday morning to answer a call from them, in which they will ask me questions to check I am getting the right amount. 

I am not looking forward to this. I go blank when asked questions about work, finance, dates, anything formal. Husband will have to sit alongside and tell me the answers.

I spoke too soon

After saying I'm only a bit under the weather yesterday I had a slump. They keep coming and going, hot flushes, rough feelings. I think I have a summer cold. That's what they say isn't it? That's what they call them?

Are summer colds different from winter colds? And why do we call colds in winter just colds, not winter colds? Maybe we should have spring and autumn colds too. Now I'm thinking about it, I'm wondering do they actually call them summer colds? Or have I made that up?

I was thinking about these things in the shower. I thought, "I'll google that." Then something else came into my head and I decided I'd google that too but I can't remember what it was. From there I went on to thinking about stream of consciousness writing.

I slept well last night apart from the most stressful dream just before I woke up. And I've finished my jigsaw.

Yes, I do get a bit obsessed once I start. A 1000 piece jigsaw in one day. There were lots of dates on it so that made pieces easier to place.

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Oh yes, Debra commented on my previous post that it was wars and things that made rich land-owners rich and able to acquire/build fine houses. In the Prideaux Place story it was largely marrying rich heiresses that kept the family in the style to which they wanted to be kept. 

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A posy from the garden.

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According to AI, summer colds in the UK remain low and at expected seasonal levels, driven primarily by baseline circulation of rhinovirus. A different article said it's more likely to be enterovirus. 

Then again yesterday AI told me that Annapolis was named after Princess Anne, daughter of Queen Elizabeth, who later became Queen Anne.