Time flying by

I celebrated the Eucharist at St John's this morning, then after an early lunch was collected and driven to Gwent Crematorium for a funeral. The roads were unusually clear and we arrived half an hour early as a result. Among the mourners were in-laws who had come over from Ireland. Few of the deceased's actual family were left, many having died prematurely, suffering from Huntington's Chorea, an inherited genetic disorder. 

I thought it might have been a long time since I last took a service in that place, but when I checked my records, I discovered to my astonishment that it was over thirteen years, while I was still working at St John's. It serves a wide area, urban and rural, and its schedule of services is always crowded. The management is strict about service timing, half an hour from entry to exit, compared to forty minutes in Thornhill. It's not good to feel you're under pressure when taking a funeral, but that's just how it is. There's no alternative.

I was home again by three, and had time to go to the shops and have a good walk before sunset. In the evening, I spent several hours working on my novel again, as I did last night, and other nights when there's nothing worth watching on telly. At ten however, I stopped to watch another episode of 'New Amsterdam', which continues to hold interest as a hospital drama laced with moral complexities and strongly drawn relationships. Next week it's the twentieth and last. I've watched this for about three months after discovering it and watching the first half dozen on catch-up.