I had Sunday duties at Penllyn and St Hilary this morning, and fortunately the weather was a lot kinder than it was yesterday. I discovered that I'd made a mistake and prepared a sermon making much use of the wrong Old Testament lesson. This meant that I had to improvise the first third of my offering and tie it in with the rest, which seemed to work and probably did me good, shaking me out of my routine performance.
We had another family meal at lunchtime, this time designed by Rhiannon to be a Father's Day party for her Dad and Grandpa, with balloons for decoration, a special choccy cake as a second pudding, and the performance of a magic trick (complete with admission tickets), to follow over coffee afterwards. Such a fertile creative imagination she has! Being a Grandpa has its special moments. I was feted with a box of chocolates and a very nice bottle of French Pinot Noir - still my joint favourite grape, with Tempranillo.
By tea-time Clare and I were on our own again as the children had left for their homes. I had to return to the Vale to officiated and preach at Evensong in the village church at Flemingston. It's six months since I was last there. I well recall driving home across country on narrow roads in the pitch dark and rain with the car engine sputtering because of the damp. This time it was mercifully dry, light and bright, as the weather had cleared up.
In the village, several guinea fowl from the flock at Flemingstone Court roamed the roads and the churchyard, and the road into the village I was using was blocked by a big brown bullock browsing the hedges, having escaped from an adjacent field. I found myself preaching about abundance and bio-diversity for the third time in a day.
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