Just ... doing
I had, I think, earmarked today as one on which I might Get Things Done. for a start, the forecast was pretty nondescript, though in fact I don't think there was any further rain after a slightly damp night. But it was overcast - at least until about teatime - and still and mild, and quite an easy day to ignore while busy indoors. I began with making sourdough - I put rather less salt in this time, and added a sprinkle of dried yeast that was left over from a batch when I was once again able to buy instant yeast. Cheaty, in sourdough, but I'll be interested to see how it turns out. It certainly rose quite dramatically ...
Then I got the sermon drafted. Every now and again the lectionary throws up a reading which answers a current situation, real low-hanging fruit for a susceptible preacher. This time it's the place of women in society, historically and in the present day ... as you may well imagine, the bit was well between my teeth and it was one thirty before Mr PB came enquiring plaintively if there was going to be ... a lunch break?
The afternoon was given over to making recordings for this Sunday and next, and to rehearsing a couple of anthems for the communion. We walked up in the interests of alleviating stiff backs from sitting over computers and the like, so the whole outing took longer than it might have. I noticed that my voice was suffering from not having done any singing for a fortnight ...
The news kept coming in as we sang about the Russian confrontation with the British Naval ship in the Black Sea. I was suddenly taken back to my fifteen-year-old self in the changing room at the school gym, where my friends and I gave up all pretence of getting ready for PE and instead crowded round someone's tiny, crackling transistor to listen to the news of the Russian ships, complete with missiles, steaming towards Cuba. We felt affronted when the PE teacher came in and made us desist: she said something scathing about being fit when we vanished in a mushroom cloud ...
With all that and rising Covid infections in Scotland and - for the first time in a year - around where I live, I felt a strong inclination to bury my head in the sand for the rest of the day, but had to put up with football instead. So now I am merely tired, rather than soothed.
Blipping a fulsome peony from the bunches brought by the boys on Saturday. I've never had peonies before, and certainly not pale pink ones. I'm very taken with them.
Struggling to keep up with blips again - please don't go away!
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