Stories that make sense
I do find baptisms very moving. It’s something about it being the beginning of a journey, a step into the light. And something about the sense of community, about one person being welcomed into a huge family.
In our case it’s an excuse for a regular family party. Though our regular family is pretty huge too.
It’s nice to have an excuse to ride on the gallopers/roundabout/carousel/merry-go-round/whatever you want to call it, on a bright sunny day, with the organ playing a selection from Carmen.
I mean, I’ve ridden on it on my own, without an excuse, before now, but it’s particularly nice to have an excuse.
It’s been a while since I walked my usual walk. Last month I slipped getting out of the shower and bashed my knee: I couldn’t get downstairs for three days, it took me seven to get out of the house, and for several weeks more it was painful if I moved it the wrong way. You can imagine how frustrating this was. Even now I can’t straighten my leg fully. Then I’ve had various things to buy and places to be, so I’ve been using my walking energy getting into town. But today I went out and I walked for fifty minutes, just for the pleasure of going for a walk. It was great.
We’ve had all sorts of weather today: rain, sunshine, and, above all, wind. It’s brought a lot of leaves down from the trees, and those that are left are sideways.
But it’s difficult to hem a garment that’s underneath a cat. She’s very cosy on my cosy jacket. (Charity shop find, several years ago, and it’s improved every winter since.)
I know the skirt looks like it’s hemmed. There’s quite a lot that you can’t see that still needs doing.
It is a decade, more or less, since I decided that if I was moving to Cambridge then I really needed to learn (again) to ride a proper bike. I achieved this by riding one round and round Woking park. Now I am doing the same thing, round and round, trying to get used to the cargo bike. (It really helps, I have found, not to think about how huge it is out front.)
I’ve written before about the multiplicity of angles that Ely cathedral manages to present. I rather like this one, with the march of the wheelie bins and the huddle of hoarding, and the towers rising serenely behind. This is a real place, and real things happen here.
It’s a miserable grey day. We dodged the rain but the sky is still gloomy. But there’s plenty of colour underfoot. It’s a question of perspective.
I’m wondering at the moment whether I’m capable of worrying less, of resisting my tendency to let fear for what might be suck the joy out of what is. There is a lot of exploring to do.
The west front of the cathedral has been hidden behind scaffolding for most of this year. But just this week it’s emerged again, with the porch looking very new and clean. Just in time for next week’s baptism service. (Also, of course, Remembrance Sunday and the Christmas fair, but I’m less interested in those!)
I passed this wall as I walked home this afternoon, and had to stop to take a second look. I could say something about how the temporal and the eternal are all mixed up together. I could say something about having to be willing to let go in order to produce something really spectacular. But actually I just thought it was beautiful.
Kathleen Jowitt 