I woke at 7.00 am, but persuaded my body to remain prone until 8.30 am. The period gave me time to consider tomorrow’s ‘adventure’ in South Wales, and how I’ll map out my week in the aftermath. 10.00 am: I prepared for Morning Prayer at Holy Trinity Church. This week, I wasn’t involved in the service’s delivery. The countdown to Diary‘s conclusion continues. (ETC: September 4.):
10.35 am: Off to Church:
The services at Trinity are traditional, serious, and unspontaneous. We sing hymns (some of which go back to the Protestant Reformation), chants, and psalms accompanied by a pipe organ, have a robed-choir, affirm creeds, read from King James Version of the Bible (sometimes), confess our sins, intercede for others, and give thanks and praise using the scriptures and patterns of prayer than go back to New Testament times. There’s no ‘worship group’, raising of arms, claims to charismatic gifts, or TVs and overhead projectors. All in all, its very formal. But for me, the services have been, at times, utterly transcendental. God has met with me in that church, often. And it’s a mode of worship that fits my personality like a glove.
2.00 pm: Running was too comfortable for comfort over the Summer; so, today, I ran in the rain. My course was determined by the principle of maximum surface contrast. My boys have been ragging me about how I get sock to foot, left to right, assignations wrong. Here’s evidence that I can get it right (or is that left):
2.50 pm: Home, wet, in need of a iced water. Then it was off again on a walk to the promenade and a favourite coffee shop:
