Thinking about climate

Regular readers of this journal could, I often think, practically write my Sunday blips for me, so predictable is their pattern. We're always up more briskly than on Saturdays, and we're always heading out the door at the back of 10am, looking just slightly smarter than usual, to get to church in time for Himself to get the hymn board up and play the opening voluntary. Lunch is always a bit late, and we tend to fall asleep after it and then want to go out. And in winter it's always a bit dark by the time we're coming home. 

Differences today? Well, I was on Intercessions, so I prayed for the people currently attempting to save our world from ourselves - all the while reflecting how little real evidence of climate change actually shows up here, where I live - except, perhaps, by a slight change in the amount of coastline along the shore in the main photo, where the sea has engulfed part of a promontory. (I also stuck in a wee prayer for the Church of England bishops, who are at last showing signs of movement towards Equal Marriage.) Another difference was the appearance in the congregation of a woman whom I taught many years ago (she's 42) who now lives in Australia but was back visiting her mother. The funny thing is that I can remember where she sat in my classroom, and some of the content of an essay she wrote.

The rest of the day was much as usual, minus my bestie who was away tootling with her Recorder orchestra. We were indeed late in getting out, but managed to miss most of the rain that defied the forecast by appearing early. We met a former colleague and had a blether in the gloaming, then walked back along the road towards the moon, which must surely be almost full by now. That's my main photo - the low grey building to the right of the moon is Toward Primary School, and this must be one of the walks we do most often, especially outwith (again!) the rush hour (when we might have to step onto the grass half a dozen times to avoid being run over).

My extra photo is of one of the huge trees beside the church, whose remaining leaves looked like gold as we left the building. I thought it was stunning. 

And that's it, really. My TV watching this evening was mainly the second part of the serial about the genesis of the SAS. My dad was in the RAF, but he was in Cairo and in the desert and present at the Battle of Alamein, so I can visualise the strange and terrifying reality of a period he never really spoke of other than cheery stories about pranks they got up to. 

But that's for next week's remembering.