I’d been disinclined to go to church. There wouldn’t be a service at our church, only one at a village nearly 4 miles away – but they usually have a very small congregation, sometimes not even a single handful of people, and yet it’s a lovely place and I have friends there – so I decided I would. I’d drive though, it’s uphill and I’m nervous of one bend (on a hill with a nasty camber so that lorries tend to take up the whole road, invisibly until the last moment) even in a car, so cycling was out of the question.
Unfortunately, I have a strong feeling of obligation. I asked the Sage what he thought. “The wind has dropped” he replied unhelpfully. “I don’t mean the weather, I mean the road. It’s not a nice road and I don’t do hills” I said. “Oh” he said, “I don’t know how to advise you”. I knew what he meant. I sighed, went and ate a piece of toast and got the bike out.
No, I didn’t enjoy it at all. And what I didn’t realise, even on the way, was that quite a lot of it was very slightly downhill, so that on the way home I didn’t have the easy run I expected. However, there was a very good turn-out, with over 70 adults and a dozen or so children. I didn’t agree with what the Rector said in her sermon and drifted off for a while, thinking how I’d put it instead. Not that I’d want to. I never want to deliver another sermon, once was fine but I’ve done it – it was never an ambition, but at the time it was appropriate – but it won’t be again. Likewise for cycling that road. I hate hills and so does my bike.
I met Wink and the Sage at the pub, had a quick drink and came home and cooked omelettes. We had chicken for dinner, which was quite neat.
Weeza sent through the first draft of the catalogue. All is going well there.