Skip to main content

A week in the UK

A week in the UK goes remarkably quickly, especially when you pack it full of family and friends. The main excuse for our trip this time was Mike and Jan's wedding, a grand gathering of friends from Bristol and beyond. The bride and groom made their departure in a VW camper van, which was just fantastic - although someone really should have tied some walking boots and a climbing helmet to the back! Maybe the ribbon nose was a little more tasteful.




The happy couple. The bride's dress was beautiful and the bridesmaids were very sophisticated too, in sleek grey dresses with cream trim.



It was good to see lots of friends and find out what they're up to - from having babies and finding jobs to moving to Africa and starting new churches! Here's me with Nath and Zan:


and me with Jen and Naomi. Midlife Crisis turned out some grand music in a decidedly chilly tent, which was obviously a ploy to keep everyone dancing. Hence the well-bundled-up look.

And, of course, us. Still a happy couple even after a year of marriage!
A stroll through Bristol revealed that it still has the capacity to surprise. Down by the cathedral we ran into a full marching band and Services parade. We never did find out what it was for.


And up on the Downs a balloon landed on Graham's head...
...and on the grass a few minutes later.
On Sunday evening we engaged in the time-honoured British activities of eating fish and chips and going to the pub. All in Clifton just to show we're middle class.
On Monday I inspected the cafe and found that very little had changed, except for the staff's snazzy new aprons. It doesn't seem to have suffered at all from my absence, which made me very happy.
Heading north, we spent a few days with Graham's parents. Family reunions are always good.
Graham's uncle and aunt came to visit, and during the course of the evening we slipped upstairs to play a vintage game called Crossfire with his cousin Mark. The perfect way to feel like a kid again!
Finally, me trying to hug the whole of the English countryside. Damp and cold it may be, but there's no place like home.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Bonnie Prince Charlie Walk: Lees to Derby

These final two Bonnie Prince Charlie walks were quite a contrast: the first across empty fields and along quiet roads; the second crossing from country into city as I walked into Derby. I started both walks at the Great Northern Greenway car park, just off Station Road in Mickleover.  Walk 1 In order to keep walking the Bonnie Prince Charlie way in the right direction, I first found my way back to Lees by an alternative route. The first section, along the cycle path, was well paved. After that it quickly got very muddy. At least it's a popular walk from Mickleover to Radbourne, so it was easy to find the path.  St Andrew's, Radbourne, is rather dominated by memorials. It looks as if the preacher would be hemmed in by tombs!      I liked this bench outside, with the text, "The thoughtful soul to solitude retires". Writing this, I only just realised it was a quote. Turns out it's from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam . The rest of the walk certainly provided solitude,

A Place at the Table: Spiritual Formation Book 12

"God has ordained in his great wisdom and goodness that eating, and especially eating in company, should be one of the most profound and pleasurable aspects of being human." Miranda Harris had been intending to write a book for years. She'd got as far as a folder full of notes when she died suddenly in a car accident in 2019. When her daughter, Jo Swinney, found the notes, she decided to bring her mum's dream to fruition. A Place at the Table was the result. I thought this was going to be a nice friendly book about having people over for dinner. In one sense it is, but it's pretty hard-hitting as well. Miranda and her husband Peter co-founded the environmental charity A Rocha, so the book doesn't shy away from considering the environmental aspects of what we eat and how we live. They also travelled widely and encountered hunger at close quarters; the tension between seeing such poverty and believing in a generous God comes out clearly in A Place at the Table.

Flexitarianism

Hey folks!  I learnt a new word today!  I can now proudly proclaim myself to be a flexitarian .  Yes, I wish that meant I'm in training to be a trapeze artist.  Or that I'm a leading world expert on the chemical properties of stretchy materials.  All it actually means is that I don't eat meat that much. Well, big deal.  That lumps me in with a majority of the world's population, many of whom have no choice about the matter.  So why the need for a fancy new word?  Because, it seems, that we in the prosperous West have come to regard having bacon for breakfast, chicken sandwiches for lunch and a steak for dinner as entirely normal.  But also because we in the prosperous West are starting to realise that might not be an entirely good idea. You know about factory farming, of course.  The images of chickens crammed into tiny cages and pigs which never see the sunlight, which we push out of our minds when we reach for our plastic-wrapped package of sausages in t