The here and now

I was so tempted to post another old photo today, tempted not to think about now because it's at once tedious and unnatural; then my cursor hovered over a screen shot from an online service from our cathedral in Oban, because it looked so different from the last time I was there, with clever lighting and well-placed camera. I did neither, because I think I have to stay with reality for most of the time - though the reality of today was that I started it by watching that service and finding it really inspiring, simply because of the sense of real commitment that the Provost brought to her liturgy. It's not easy to do that in an empty cathedral.

In real life it was a horrid day. It was merely ordinary at breakfast time, but by the time I was out and taking this photo, the rain had started again and the wind was gusting and this was the only exercise I felt like taking. I was walking up to the church for a recording session; Himself had gone ahead in the car so that he could practise while I went first to the post box. I actually rather like this photo in its representation of life in Dunoon; people who live in more urban surroundings sometimes tell me how fortunate I am but a small town on a wet March morning is a dreary place even without lockdown. There is actually one other person in this photo, but I wouldn't have been surprised had it been completely empty. The road is the  one that leads round the back of Dunoon past the entrance to the Bishop's Glen; Holy Trinity church is beyond the trees at the curve in the road,  where the rain is already marching down from the hills.

Spent the rest of the day doing Italian (and making so many silly mistakes - ma heid's mince, as a friend used to say, and I find remembering small details of prepositions challenging to say the least) and scanning more old photos. And I attended Compline via zoom. And then fell asleep over the telly, like an old woman. 

Can't have that, can I?