Once again I find myself sleepless and with nothing much on my mind of any interest to anyone, so of course I felt bound to share it with the rest of the world.
The photograph above of the view from St Mary's south door down to the gate is, I think , a particularly atmospheric one.
It has an almost Dickensian feel and I loved it so much that I stole it from our newsletter. I don't know who took it but they obviously have a sense of drama almost as well developed as mine.
A more compelling reason for using it is to remind me that it is nearly six months since I last set foot in St M's.
Although I greatly value the zoomed service on Sunday, it is a very poor substitute for actually being there, ensconced with the rest of the choir in the chancel and able to sing and take part whole-heartedly.
They have started to hold services again, but with only a very few (30) in the congregation and of course with no 'live' choir, and I can't help wondering if and when that will be replaced with the real thing.
Some people who can get to the church on foot cannot understand why I and many others are not even contemplating getting there by public transport (if any), or by taxi, but so far I haven't dared to risk any such means.
The virus, I fear, will be with us for a very long time and I'm trying very hard not to feel cheated of my one real pleasure.
Real life these days for me and many thousands like me is a poor imitation of our previous one.
At present I go shopping with a neighbour and that is it. Once a week and no other jaunts. Sometimes it feels like a bad dream, but this is apparently the way life has to be lived for the forseeable future.
I apologise if this is a miserable epistle but sadly that's how I feel at present. My sense of humour appears to have packed its bags and departed. Can't say I blame it.
