The M4 on Friday afternoon was slow and crowded, giving us warning signs from Leigh Delamere services onwards of long delays on the north eastern quarter of the M25, which meant we'd have to queue to reach the A12 Ipswich Road, or take an alternative route, which we did. First north to Oxford, then East to Cambridge. We also met traffic congestion on this route, but the A14 from Cambridge, south and east was clear all the way to our destination. The usual four hour journey took us six, and driving most of the way took its toll on me, it being the first long journey I've driven (circa 300 miles) in several years.
Kath and Rhiannon joined us to a stay in the Waverley hotel overlooking the sea front. Friday and Saturday nights it was noisy until the early hours with the babble of many young people socialising in the public gardens between us and the promenade. Sunday night, however, was much quieter, possibly suggesting that most socialites had work to go to on Monday, or journeys home to make.
The rain held off for most of the party celebrations on Saturday afternoon, and rain came as guests were leaving. In the evening we strolled through Felistowe town, and guided by an 'app' running on Kath's iPhone, we found a friendly little pizza restaurant for a light supper.
Sunday morning, Eddie came to fetch me, so that I could attend the Eucharist at St Mary & St Martin's, the village church in Kirton, bi-celebrated by Helen, an ordained local minister who shares the pastoral care of five village churches with the incumbent and two Readers. Eddie and Anne brought Stefan their three year old grandson with them to church. His dad is Greek, and Stefan is growing up bi-lingual, which is quite a delight, as I can use the phrase book Greek I learned in my twenties with him as well as English.
Kirton church is a simple thirteenth century building with plain glass windows, which illuminates the plain whitewashed interior beautifully on sunny mornings like this one, and one can see trees and hear birds singing during worship. Stefan quietly absorbed the service, and walked up to the Communion rail for a blessing holding my hand.
It touched me greatly, being able to accompany a small child into the holy of holies at this point. It's such a special privilege. I had only holiday time opportunities to do this with my children when they were little, being for the most part on the other side of the rail, giving rather than receiving on Sundays. Sadly, Kath is not in the habit of taking Rhiannon to church, so they were down on Felixstowe beach with Grandma. I wonder how far that choice of habit arises because of growing up with a father otherwise occupied when it comes to being together in church as a child?
Sunday lunch was another big family affair at Eddie and Anne's, with eighteen of us dining out in the garden. We stayed and chatted the rest of the afternoon, then walked the prom in Felixstowe before returning to the same pizza place for another light evening meal before turning in for the night.
We drove home as far as Oxford by the same route, then followed the A40 across the top of the Cotswolds down into Gloucester, before driving alongside the Severn estuary back into Wales along the A48. The latter part of the journey is very varied and beautiful, so we arrive home more refreshed than tired.
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