Pictorial blethers

By blethers

Change and decay ...

I have one of these minds that are stuffed full with quotations, a sort of jumble of half-remembered phrases that pop out, often, as the titles of these blips. I'm not actually feeling quite as dreary as these words and the others from the relevant verse in Abide with Me might suggest, thank goodness, but they're too apt to ignore. 

Today looked good, but was decidedly chilly. This photo was taken on a morning circuit of the town from the Co-op, where I'd walked to post a parcel; it shows how in the past there were far more steps to the sea than there are now, presumably because the people who owned the big houses all along the East Bay had boats or wanted access to the beach in Dunoon's heyday. Some are still in use, but the others are now firmly barricaded off and are gradually falling into the sea.

I had two Zoom meetings today - a PreachMeet in the afternoon and a larger one about the online future in our church. The meetings about preaching, as I may have said before, are a rare treat: they happen when one of the lay team is preparing a sermon, and the rest of us discuss the lectionary readings for the day and throw ideas about. Originally to give us the confidence that we were on the right track - and probably to guard against any tendency towards heresy - these are now really important to someone like me as a stimulus both mental and spiritual. 

Afterwards we were seduced by the sunshine to go a short walk at Toward; there was a biting wind from the NE and I certainly didn't have enough clothes on. (Perfectly decent, you understand, but it's time to stop having bare feet in sneakers ...) Then a fairly early dinner before the next meeting. 

Now I'm escaping from BBC Question Time, and on my way to bed. Tomorrow is supermarket day, and already I'm beginning to dread it. I don't think it's fear of infection that I dread, more the need to scrape myself together to be in the shop at 8am. I find early morning deadlines harder and harder and wonder if this is a defining stage in ageing.

However, I'm cheered by another swift online exchange with #1 grandchild today, this time on the use of the comma in poetry: are they more or less necessary in what is essentially vers libre?

Love it.

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