Of stuck drawers and visual metaphors

You can tell I didn't post this when I should have - at midnight I tend not to sit messing around with photos, merging them and the like, but last night we were out to dinner with excellent company and by the time I was home again I was beyond thought. 

It's as well the day ended with such jollity, because the day wasn't much cop. This weather that keeps looking like summer tempted me out into the garden - briefly - because there are triffid-like tentacles thrashing in the breeze from the now blossom-free wisteria and I had a notion to prune them off, but it was so cold I gave up. There were bees buzzing convincingly, the roses are coming out, the philadelphus has its first flowers - all things that belong to balmy days and scented evenings, not the shivers of early Spring!

Instead, I summoned Himself to try to get into the drawers of my filing cabinet that forms part of my Ikea desk. They've been bothering me for years, to the extent that I've tended to leave the top drawer slightly open. Trouble is, it then slides out of its own volition and gets in the way. The other night I was feeling so cross I slammed it shut - and it stuck. So did the other three drawers. Disaster - especially as all the holiday papers (and a collection of Euros and my passport) were locked inside. It took much grunting and levering and swearing and tinkering with a screwdriver to liberate them, though the original stuck drawer remains obstinately one inch open. I've now forgotten what's in it, it's been such a while. If any blipper has the answer ...

So we abandoned it and went to dinner with our new bishop and wife and another friend, and spent a very jolly evening indeed eating delicious things and drinking various beverages and thinking how much we'll miss them when they move to Oban (it is two hours' drive away) and how good it'll be for the diocese and ... and ... and looking at a photograph album of mine that I found recently in the nightmare that is our study and which has photos of some of the more epic climbs I did in my late 40s/early 50s which I'd promised to share. Pure self-indulgence on my part, but they said all the right things ...

And when we went out, we were struck by the dramatic appearance of the car-charging point on the wall, glowing and pulsing in the darkness. That's my photo, and I've superimposed the crest of the Episcopalian Diocese of Argyll and The Isles, which I'd hunted out to make a wee card attached to a bottle. I thought perhaps two photos of me socialising over a meal in one week would be repetive ...

 Interpret how you will.