Monday, June 15, 2015

Diary entry -

On Friday evening Dr Baxter Kruger (from Mississippi not S. Africa as I thought) spoke at Zac's as part of his Dare to Be Loved tour. It wasn't quite what I expected and as he talked for well over an hour my brain stopped working fairly early on. Still I did pick up some good bits, or at least one good bit.

Saturday - can't remember much about. Think I was cleaning. 

Sunday had an amazing time in prison. Our speaker, Dustin Rubio, a Mexican grew up in American slums and narrowly escaped taking the same route as the majority of his extended family involving drugs and a lot of jail time. Instead he became a Christian, married a Welsh girl and now lives in Swansea (as all the wise men do). 

His talk was followed by the baptism (or christening in an Anglican ceremony) of four of the inmates. They'd completed the Christianity Explored course and wanted to be baptised. The chaplain offered to do it for them privately one afternoon but they wanted it done as part of the Sunday service so their friends and fellow inmates would be witnesses. It was a really special time and I was thrilled to be there to witness it.

In the afternoon I was off to a public swimming pool for another baptism ... but I got there too late. But as it happened it didn't matter as the woman I'd gone to support had changed her mind. I think she was a little scared of the water. Now she's going to be baptised in her church as part of a normal Sunday service with water on her forehead. Or as she said, 'The pastor said I could be baptised when we have the cremation next Sunday.' (She meant communion.)

Today Daughter asked if I'd like to meet her for coffee in Mumbles this afternoon. Or tea in my case. Or rather tea and white chocolate and raspberry blondie, which Daughter declared wasn't as good as the ones I made last week.
While in Cafe 93 Daughter fed Granddaughter2 and handed her to me for burping. She promptly vomited milk over my shoulder and onto the leather sofa we were sitting on. From where it trickled down and soaked my trousers. I spent the next half hour walking around the village (on my own as Daughter left at this point to pick up children) with a wet shoulder and bum. Without an obvious child to blame people probably put it down to my senility.

Home for the rest of a sunny afternoon and the first swim of the year.
It was okay after the initial shock!


Anna said...

Oh dear, isn't your daughter a meany?!

SmitoniusAndSonata said...

Trendsetting again !
Though you could have nipped into any Poundshop and bought a huge scarf to drape tastefully over the burped-on bits . (I'm building a wardrobe of these scarves to drape over bits I'd rather not reveal) .