All our compulsions meet ...

That line from Larkin's poem Church Going came into my head as I was watching my photo for today load at the glacial speed that I get after midnight when my backup programme kicks in. It'll perhaps become apparent why later. 

I sat up in bed this morning and watched a bank of mist from the Other Side gradually come and engulf us, but by the time I was having my breakfast it had burned off and today was again blue and bright and disconcertingly warm in the sun. Today's washing out on the line consisted of fleecy dressing-gowns, though the mornings are certainly still cold enough and they'll not be going away for the summer yet. I annoyed myself by reserving an overnight hotel room at the airport - for the start of our holiday next month - on the wrong site, despite having done it more times than I can recall. Third party sites can look so like the original that the rushed visit can be quite confusing. Grrr. 

Himself had already been up to the church to practice - getting in before the church cleaners - and turned up for coffee just as I was making up my mind to do the shopping today and leave tomorrow free, so I walked down and fought my way round innumerable random men with trolleys to find what I needed, noting how the departure from routine brought about a kind of shopping-list amnesia so that I had to go back to find courgettes ...

The afternoon was a repeat of yesterday's. I sat in the garden and fell asleep over some Italian exercises despite the noise from the man next door who insists on trying to encourage his beautiful dog to be fierce by growling at it in a bizarre ritual. A text from my pal in Rothesay informed me that our new Rector's collation in our twin church had gone well and was now over, waking me up and reminding me to walk up the road again for some exercise...

Which was why I was back at the church to take that photo of the east end, with the birds singing a counterpoint to the sound of the organ playing one of the magnificent hymn tunes we're having tomorrow. I went inside to check on a few things and had the idea to FaceTime our friend in Alabama whom I mentioned the other week. She was delighted to see and hear Himself playing in the church she loves, and also to go on a tour round the  grounds before I sat in the sun with my phone so that we could just blether. 

It struck me with renewed force this lovely afternoon what a privilege it is to have this sanctuary on the hill, with its old trees and birdsong and its sense of being out of the world, as I sat in the sunshine on the bench made by our Bishop a year or so ago and felt the presence of all the people I've known here over the fifty or so years we've been attending the church. It was after 5.30pm when I roused myself to think of dinner and went to winkle Himself off the organ bench to go home.

The day ended with a lovely online Compline, after which I seemed totally unable not only to stay awake but also to rouse myself to come up to bed. Silly, really.