You have to get back some time, don’t you? Some perspective.
This has been an even more hectic patch than usual.
Let me tell you about my (extensive . . .) evening yesterday.
The night before, I’d been at our church PCC (Parochial Church Council) meeting. I am its secretary.
Last Sunday we said farewell to our much loved parish priest as he departed for the next phase of his journey, and we sent him on his way with gifts expressive of so much love.
Hot on the heels of that came the Archdeacon to our PCC meeting the following night. He addressed us on the subject of our duties as a PCC during the vacancy as we search for a new priest. His advice proved comprehensive and detailed, his delivery focused. It was my job as secretary to make sure I had it all minuted for circulation. A bit like this, with no music:
The next day (yesterday) had various obligations but by evening I settled down to write up the minutes, as the PCC members need them now, not just in advance of the next PCC as usual – now, so we know what to do!
In the actual meeting my pen just flew over the paper, as I concentrated on getting down what the Archdeacon had to say – all my critical faculties suspended, just capturing words.
Thus it was that when I came to write it all up, though in Paragraph Two the Archdeacon had evidently said our advert had to be in to the Church Times for the 2nd September, by Paragraph A-Lot-more-Than-Two he stressed we must complete all our documentation in time to have the ad ready for the second week.
Uh-oh. What second week?
After some puzzlement I thought he must have initially said not “the 2nd of September” but “the 2nd week of September”.
However, as there is an implication of considerable discrepancy between these two dates and we have to get our time frame fairly exact, and it’s my responsibility to produce correct minutes, I wondered how I might verify this.
I thought I’d email the Archdeacon to check – despite the nagging remembrance that his chronic busyness made it unlikely he’d see or reply in the time I needed an answer.
I looked at the diocesan website for contact details. His address appeared there, and phone number, and a live link saying “email”, which I clicked. It brought up a requirement to enter a password for Outlook, which I neither have nor want. Darn. I spent a fruitless while rummaging through my 455-email archive for our church looking for the correspondence between the Archdeacon and our rector that had been forwarded to me . . . er . . . last summer?? No joy.
I gave up, plumped for rendering his instruction as the 2nd WEEK of September, sent a covering cry for help/verification out to the PCC with the minutes; job done. They have responded en masse today. He did say the 2nd week.
So I finally put those minutes to bed and got the hard copy file in order around 2am this morning and fell into bed exhausted. At 4am I was awaked by the oh so familiar sound of a mosquito in my bedroom. Nyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eee ee e eeeeeee by one ear. Then nyeeeeeeeeeee eee e ee eee e eeeeeeeeeee by the other ear.
I have soft skin that responds badly to every alarum including stress. At any given time I have sores, blisters and whatnot to contend with. I did NOT want mosquito bites too. I sat up and put on the light again. Nyeeeeeeeeeeeeee e ee eeeeee ee - I could see its little body blurring the air just in front of my face, but failed to catch it. I got up and hunted around. It fell silent. I went back to bed and turned out the light. Nyeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee e eeeeeeee e. I covered myself entirely with the duvet and stifled and sweltered until I could no longer bear it, then re-surfaced. Nyeeeeeee. Nyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
I got up, went upstairs to the Badger’s empty nest (midweek = Badger in Oxford), crashed out there as the seagulls began to rouse and the dawn lightened the sky, and slept until 8.30.
Various chores have filled the day. Correspondence. Laundry. A visit to my beautiful mama. Some complex driving through insane traffic and congested streets. Grocery shopping for salad, fruit, fish – because I’ve been eating such trash! When life is very busy, I forget what people might possibly eat and just grab whatever’s handy; cheese, cake, bread, cake, bread, tea . . . tsk. I declare it’s been possible to sit and watch myself getting fatter! In desperation today I raided Marks and Spencer for healthy food.
Then this evening I’ve been roaming YouTube listening to opera. Recouping time for life and beauty from so much rush and tear.
Mozart. My very favourite.
And congratulations to Wills and Kate!