A strange sort of day - the transition from one weather system to another, from biting cold to wet and windy, from the relative cheer that sunshine brings to the all-pervasive gloom, both literal and metaphorical all somehow combined with Valentine's Day that no-one really mentioned other than on the radio. Meanwhile, brave women, some so very young, took to the streets in Russia, bearing roses and paper hearts, in a silent show of support for Alexei Navalny that said so much more than any more frivolous trappings of the day.
There were good things, however, personally speaking. For some reason which I have yet to fathom, the Church in relatively recent years has designated this as the celebration of the Feast of the Transfiguration, rather than on 6th August - the date fixed in 1457 by the then Pope. (I've just realised that the Church of Scotland uses that Gospel reading on this day - is this why? Very odd.) However fascinating or not you find this, I'm mentioning it only because my only foray into hymn-writing produced a hymn that does well with the Transfiguration story, a hymn to be sung to the tune Selma, which I love. We did that today, or rather the recording we made of it was played during today's Zoom service, and people were very appreciative to the point of asking for a copy. And that was good because anything that makes this life we're leading just now feel less like a place-holder is per se A Good Thing.
I spent some time looking at the poems I'm going to use in Tuesday's workshop, and happened to chance on the BBC's Bitesize Revision notes for senior school pupils. I've never looked at them before - they're after my time - and I was utterly depressed by the standard of notes on these poems, presented as, presumably, aids to pupils wrestling with revision. My point is that I recognised them - recognised in the sense that they looked like the worthy but utterly mediocre responses that the poor pupils who study them are likely to produce as a result. I've never been in favour of extended notes on anything - remember Brodie's notes, anyone? - because I reckon the best notes for any student are those taken at top speed in a live situation led by a good teacher who fully understands her subject-matter. Grr.
Meanwhile the wind had got up and the sea was sweeping giant waves onto the shore - but the rain appeared to be lessening and so, as the last miserable light began to leave the sky, we went out. My excuse was I was posting something, but mainly it was merely the madness that makes us restless if we don't walk at least a bit. My photo is of the road that leads from the pier towards the back of Dunoon - our church is beyond the end of the road and round the bend (don't say a word). We walked up this road to the top, round to the left below the church, and down to the shore, where I took some videos of crashing waves and got the backs of my legs completely soaked when the rain returned with new enthusiasm.
I think our bedroom may tonight be 5ºC warmer than it was last night ...