I don’t think I mentioned last week that Squiffany has learned left and right. She was taught it at her nursery school. I am quite impressed. I know an awful lot of school-age children who don’t know that. She knows that my left or right is diagonally opposite hers, too.
I was extremely surprised by a letter I received this morning from the Bishop. He says I can administer Holy Communion, and I hadn’t even asked to. I can’t do the consecrating of course, but I can dish out the bread and wine. Thing is, I don’t want to. I would feel most uncomfortable. Also, what if one dropped the chalice? So embarrassing. I’m going to have to try and dodge that particular bullet for the next three years.
Mike has decided that the car he’d been considering for me won’t do, so now he’s considering another one. I’ve told him what does matter to me and what doesn’t and I’ll leave it to him and the Sage. If I don’t have one here and insured by Tuesday morning, I’ve the dismal prospect of getting to Norwich by 9.30 on the bus, though I’d be able to come home with Ro. Things take a lot longer out in the sticks by public transport – I’d have to leave home an hour earlier than if I go by car.
Actually, that was mentioned at a meeting at the high school yesterday. There are several school buses and one of them takes 50 minutes to go all round the villages, dropping the final passengers off only about 8 miles away. The school gets the grumbles, but school buses are booked and paid for by the county council. It’s assumed that only the old, the young (school age) and the poor use buses in the country and as they matter least, the level of service isn’t important.