Ships that pass ...

I've been using collages for the past week to try to convey some of the magic of Arran as I know the island; I'm sorely tempted to use another one tonight because of the variety of my day. However, I think that this huge dark cargo ship, silhouetted agains the hills of home, is quite an apt metaphor for some of today's moments, looming large and then departing as our ways diverge. 

It was lovely to be back in church; we only missed a week but we were welcomed back as if we'd been away longer. It was a lovely service, led by one of our Lay Readers, with crazily good singing for a small rural congregation and an interesting take on what saints are - this being a saint's day - with hymns that fitted as though Himself had been writing the sermon. 

Then we were off again, with little time to chat, to have a speedy bite to eat and go for the ferry on our way to Cumbrae for a concert in the Cathedral - not performing today, but listening to our friend Alastair play music for two pianos with another friend, Jonathan, who has been coming from London to perform - and sometimes to accompany us in the choir - ever since he and Alastair met on the Waverley. If you have children around the age of 50, you may recall PlayAway on the telly = "with Jonathan Cohen at the piano!" (think cheery announcer voice). The tiny cathedral was packed, the two grand pianos filled the space with sound, and it was lovely just to be there and listen.

It was also lovely to chat afterwards - always my downfall - with the performers but also with other old friends - one from the choir tour of 1992 (or whenever it was Glasgow's year as City of Culture) who had just left school and was/is a year older than our #1 son. We've not seen any of them for many years now and I found it hard to leave, so it was teatime before we left. (I'm adding an extra of Jonathan just because he said not to put it on Facebook ... ) I think I was feeling thirty years younger. 

It was a gloriously still, warm evening by the time we were driving up the road from Largs, and the crossing to Hunter's Quay was rather magical. When we got in, Himself had to put the bins out for tomorrow's collection while I assembled some pasta and bits, having thought when we left at midday that we'd be eating in Millport (the café was fully booked by a party, so no go there). I don't recall much of the evening after that, but now it's coming up to midnight and bed beckons. 

I'll be a better blip-catcher-upper when my life settles down a bit ...