Back on duty again this morning, this time celebrating the ten thirty Eucharist at St Catherine's our local Parish Church, filling in over the next month while our parish priests and families take their holidays. Many church members are also away with their families at this time, so there was no Sunday school, but there were still three dozen in the congregation.
Afterwards while we socialised over a cup of coffee in the church hall, we bought some french beans, grown in the church's own community vegetable garden an excellent enterprise that has developed over the past couple of years, making use of some of the open space in a churchyard that has never been used for burials. It's just an open enclosure of lawn with fine mature shady trees, perfect for summer social events and for involving gardening enthusiasts with not much room at home.
Before setting out for church I rang my sister Pauline, who told me that her husband Geoff is dying, and not expected to live more than a couple of days. Her children were there with her, Julian from Dubai and Nicky from Guildord. She asked if I'd be willing to do the funeral. Their own Parish Church in the village of Bleadon Hill near Weston-super-Mare is now part of a rural grouping which no longer has a resident priest of its own. It's difficult to minister when you just want to be part of the group of mourners being ministered to, but I couldn't refuse her request. I've known Geoff for sixty five years, as I was a page boy at their wedding when I four years old.
We spent the rest of the day preparing and packing, ready for an early start on a six o'clock coach for Heathrow for a midday flight to Dusseldorf, and our third summer holiday adventure.
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