To the dark tower ...

Maybe I should start just hiding quotations (or parodies of same) to every post - it's probably another complication too far in a life which seems to have more than enough in it right now! Enough of picturesque landscapes: today I bring you a collage of honest toil as a small gang of old people (for that, dear reader, is what we were) tackled the church tower, which has become too wet inside to be of any use at all. I feel I have to explain that the church was originally built (in 1850) without a tower; subsequent expansion of the congregation/aspirations/wealth brought an extra third of the length of the nave, a narthex - and the tower. It's become too much of a battle to keep the interior dry, with the result that the bells are no longer rung (because that involves climbing up to the ringing chamber) and the two rooms (the ringing one and the one below) are no longer suitable for ... just about anything. So today a gang of us removed as much as we could from the upper room and relocated the stuff not needed on a weekly basis to a self-store on the edge of town. So my collage shows Himself looking bleakly at the task ahead and various features like the scary ladder to the bellchamber and the ropes for ringing the bells (I used to love doing this), but omits the sight of us with our jackets dusted with mould from old hymnbooks ...

Outside the sun shone brightly on the graveyard and on us as we loaded cars with boxes and drove them to their new home - after which the three of us doing this part of the job treated ourselves to a coffee in the shop which runs the self-store. We felt we'd done quite a good job - and we felt a great sense of bonhomie and team spirit with the group who'd worked so hard. 

It was hard not to fall asleep after that, but when we'd had some lunch we resolved that the only cure for my aching knee (I think I overdid the new stretches at Pilates the other day) was a walk. So we dodged the showers that had inconveniently started arriving from the north-west and had a lovely walk up the farm road at Ardyne., noticing the bright shine from the new overhead cables (I recognised what it was because the church cable has also been replaced) and the fallen familiar trees in the woodland. My extra is of the huge half-dead tree that seems to survive despite everything - it's lost a lump off its dead side. 

We were back at the car in time to watch the sun disappear over Bute: the good news is that it doesn't disappear till 4.30pm, so the days are clearly getting longer. Dinner was rather fabulous (we get terribly good fish delivered weekly to our door) and we were done in time for online Compline, which always makes me feel calm and cared-for. (If you're not familiar with the service, it's worth looking it up.)

It looks as if tomorrow morning may be icy. Whether it is or not, it'll mean another palaver to de-mist the car so that I can go shopping. Best be off...