The pain in the middle of the night

Yay! The roofers have finished and the scaffolding has gone from the front. The rest of it is still there but at least we don't have that huge tower in front of our bedroom window any more.

I had a terrible pain in my chest in the middle of the night and was wondering how long I should wait before waking Husband and telling him I'm having a heart attack. Then it went away. So it was probably the half a doughnut I ate in Zac's.

A lovely walk this morning with Daughter and Louie, with a little bit of gardening this afternoon. In between I researched Mothering Sunday for this week's church newsletter. Did you know Mothering Sunday was less to do with mothers and more to do with the church? 

From the 16th century, the 4th Sunday in Lent was designated as Mothering or Refreshment Sunday. The idea was that on that day you returned to your 'mother' church' i.e. the one in which you were baptised or your local church or nearest cathedral. The strict fasting rules of Lent were relaxed for that day and you were allowed to eat slightly richer food.

It was also the day that domestic servants were allowed to go home and visit their families - the only day of the year they had off apparently.

Mother's Day in America is a completely different thing and happens on the 2nd Sunday of May.

(Oh, I just found a spot on my chin.) (Probably that doughnut again.)

The camellia bush in our garden is looking absolutely gorgeous.

Tsundoku

I grumble about being busy but free days also are no good for me.

I waffle around, wasting time, dithering, wondering what to do. I look at the study and think I could tidy it. Next minute I am standing in the middle of the study, head in hands, saying, no it's too much. I don't know where to begin.

So I procrastinate and come and blog.

No! I can make a start with my desk. So I clear some rubbish and move some books.

But my book shelves are too full. "Get rid of some books!" I hear Husband's voice in my head. And, yes, it's reasonable: there are books on the shelves I read long ago and I won't read them again but . . . can I do this?

There a small box full of books to go. You can see by the dust and discolouration on the tops how long they've been untouched. I did, however, find quite a lot of books I've not read so they can't go. Some I might never read; some I bought because they were written by someone I was on a writing course with or something; some I bought on a whim; others with good intentions that I never quite found time for; books I've inherited and keep because I think I should; yet more still that are old but I've kept in case one day I want to read a classic. So many good arguments and not enough time to read everything. 

Not to mention the dvds and even videotapes that we don't have a player for.

Oh this is too much. I'm going to sit down and continue my pilgrimage to find grace.

My grey Christianity

The title of the sermon in church this morning was Good Sex, Bad Sex, (about the passage on adultery in the sermon on the mount) and the speaker began with a joke. 

A teacher asked the local vicar to speak to a class of schoolgirls about sex. He agreed but, for some reason, didn't want to tell his wife so he told her he was talking about sailing.

He did the talk and it went down very well. The teacher bumped into the vicar's wife a few days later and told her how very good her husband's talk had been.

"That's a surprise," said the wife. "He's only done it twice. The first time he was sick and the second time his hat blew off."

That was the last light-hearted moment in the sermon. The speaker's view was very straight down the line with no grey areas. My Christianity is full of grey areas, I don't knows, and I don't understands. I was going to say it must be nice to have it all so clearly set out in your head but actually I'm not sure it's always meant to be straightforward. I mean, Jesus' message is simple. Love. Love God, your neighbour, yourself. But Jesus also liked to challenge his listeners. And just about the final thing he did was promise paradise to someone who hadn't even said he was sorry, let alone said the 'sinner's prayer' so beloved of evangelicals.

To see beyond the shell, to hear the unsaid, to love the unlovely.

Our lovely young minister is speaking next week on divorce. He is very anxious and has been preparing for it since before Christmas. He's more like me and less sure that things are black and white.

It wasn't all bad

I did make some very good cookies to take to the girls on the street. They went down well. One girl said they were better than Greggs, so, greater praise hath no woman.

Because I was out yesterday evening I had to avoid all social media this morning until I'd watched the replay of the Ireland Wales game that happened last night. Yes, Wales lost again but they keep improving. Ireland are in great form so I expected a huge score against us but it wasn't. (27-17)

I also forgot to say that on Wednesday I went with Daughter-in-law to Taliesin Theatre to watch Made in Dagenham. It's the musical of the film of the fight by women machinists in Ford factories in the 60s to get equal pay with men. And it was great. Full of energy, great music, and 60s clothes. 

* * * * *

I was looking for a book to show Captain Kirt. I couldn't find it but did find one about Knossos. This puzzled me because, as I said to Cap'n K, we haven't been to Knossos nor shown any interest in it as far as I could remember.

Glancing through the book this morning a bell rang. I searched my blog.

It seems we have been to Knossos . . .

A couple of old ruins in Knossos

It was in 2007 though so I can be forgiven my memory lapse. I think.

I shouldn't have

I shouldn't have done anything. I should have stayed in bed.

They were short-staffed at Zac's for the breakfast shift so I volunteered, meaning I was up just before 7. And I'm blaming the rest of the day on that.

I couldn't remember what drinks people had asked me for even as I was making them and, as for sugar, the answers didn't stay in my head long enough to make it to the cups.

Then I went to Tesco's. You have to get a parking voucher and have it validated when you leave. I took my voucher to the machine and it said, "Invalid ticket." I tried again, same problem. 

Underneath it said to type in the code if there was a problem. I dug in my bag, found my glasses, and duly typed in the code. "Invalid ticket."

I tried a different machine; same problem. 

I marched inside the store to the security guard, waved my ticket at him, and said, "The machine's saying it's invalid!"

He took the ticket from me, looked at it, and then said, "That's because this is a voucher for £1 off Old Spice."

I came home and tried to finish my jigsaw. 

There are seven pieces of the tablecloth to fit in; I have seven pieces. But the pieces don't fit in the gaps. I can't see any obvious mistakes I've made. Normally this would bother me and I'd have to resolve it but as there are five other pieces missing I can't be bothered. So there.

And that's the sort of day it was.

Apocalypse now?

Is anyone else checking news outlets more frequently to see how close we are to the end of the world?

* * * * *

Monday spent prepping to lead Zac's, and making cake for Zac's.

Tuesday exercise, jigsaw, and continuing prep. A good bible study with lots of discussion and a great prayer time focussing on the situation in Iran.

This morning a lovely walk with Daughter and Louie. 

Doing a jigsaw is the only thing guaranteed to keep my mind occupied. I just have to convince myself that it is not wasting time and even if it were that would be okay. 

Happy St. David's Day

I was on welcoming duty at church today so I carefully practised and used the phrase, "Hapus Dydd Dewi Sant".

I was very pleased with myself. Until I discovered that the correct way to say it is, "Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Hapus!"

Ah, well, I tried.

Everyone was invited to stay on afterwards for cawl (Welsh for soup, traditionally made with lamb, leeks, and other vegetables) and bara brith (literally speckled bread, the name comes from the fruit that goes into it).

Sandra, one of our florally gifted ladies, made little arrangements for the tables.

* * * * *

Yesterday was gorgeous so I began tidying the fruit patch.

I have a cunning plan for the bit at the far end but I haven't it to Husband yet and I need his help. Well, I could do it myself but I'm sure there's a saying about that.

Then in the afternoon we walked with Elder Son, GrandSon3, and Theo to Crawley woods.

My first violets of the year

Elder Son enjoyed himself.