I was walking in a dark park at night with my daughter.
Every so often we came across pools of light, otherwise the darkness was virtually complete.
Leaving her for a moment, I went to investigate the pools of light and then returned to find her but was completely unable to locate her in the pitch black.
I woke up absolutely terrified . It was the worst nightmare I have ever experienced. I awoke shaking with fear.
Today a homing pigeon presented itself at the gate to my drive and sat underneath a bush watching me. It gave every appearance of exhaustion. So I found some seed and water and we became friends.
A homeless Homing Pigeon
The pigeon provides a happy diversion to a process that is completely knackering. I have realised that it is not the big bulky stuff you must fear in moving house, but the little things that are oddly-shaped and don't fit neatly into boxes. I feel a small chainsaw might come in handy at this point.
The normal procedure for moving from one vicarage to the next is that the Church pays for an agreed Removals Company to come and help you move. In my situation, there is no help whatsoever. I must pack, go up and downstairs constantly carrying any number of boxes, load the van, drive the van, unload the van and repeat the cycle ad infinitum. The Diocese has fixed a moving date but where are they when it comes to moving out to ....... to where?
In Asda, I have a big moment with the Manager over 3 bottles of wine. He is wrong but I'm not especially right either. I think it's all beginning to get to me. The shatterproof professional veneer is finally coming unstuck.
I can even smell myself.
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