And breathe ...

Wow. That was quite a day. I'm glad I was part of it, but I'm also past it in terms of stamina and have been sleeping on and off downstairs for what seems like hours, without the energy to go to bed...

We were up far earlier than usual, as we had a meeting in church of the people most involved with the appointment of a new rector - and the candidates chosen for interview for the job. Our indefatigable bishop was there again, having already driven down from Oban (2 hours' drive) for the second time in two days, and the event took on the air of a strange party in the chilly church with coffee and biscuits and groups forming and reforming for all the world like a purely social event. Then I was home again for just long enough to have my coffee (I like it stronger than the church coffee) and do my Italian, though I was so distracted I made a string of stupid mistakes. 

Just before midday I was off again, this time to Colintraive in the capacious car of the vestry secretary, along with the two church wardens. On the way we passed a large machine demolishing the road bridge damaged in last autumn's floods; the road now uses an alternative bridge constructed, along with a new road section, in a roadside field - I managed to get the obligatory photo without actually getting out of the car. 

Our meeting took place in the Colintraive Hotel, where we met our opposite numbers from our joint charge in Rothesay, who walked up from the ferry over the Kyles. Another strange little party, this time over soup and (fabulous) sandwiches, all chatting away as if it was a normal event, all remembering why we were there,  then the interviews and discussion and decision-making ... of which the outcome will be announced once paperwork has been completed. 

My photo shows none of that. This is what I could see through the window to my left as I sat at the table for the meeting - a beautiful day of which we saw precisely nothing other than what that one small window allowed. By the time we got out it was almost dark, and we had the really trying drive home to face - a single-track road in places, suddenly becoming two-way and then reverting to single once more, a road of hills and blind summits and sudden bends and the occasional huge lorry trundling past terrifyingly at passing places and the blinding lights of the evening rush hour (all half dozen cars of it). Not everyone coped with the hurtling through the blackness with nothing to see for reference ... 'nuff said.

How do I feel about it - apart from exhaustion? Grateful, encouraged, satisfied that all has been well done. And that's all, for now. All the stars are out, it's freezing cold again, and I'm off to bed.