Church, taboos and chilling

After yesterday's diatribe about the horrors of church, Lord H and I popped into St Mary's Shackleford for our monthly visitation. It wasn't too bad actually, though I really wouldn't want to commit to any more than that. And I certainly don't want to get involved. Still, the hymns were nice, especially the third one, and I had a nice chat afterwards to the heavily pregnant woman behind me - who seemed startlingly normal for a church-goer. Mind you, Lord H and I did rather get swamped into chit-chat (how I hate chit-chat!) at coffee with other people, whereas last time, no-one had spoken to us at all. Something in between the two states would be nice, and I really don't want to get introduced to anyone. There's no point as I don't remember anyone's names apart from my own, Lord H's - oh and the pregnant lady. I do remember her name. That said, full marks to the vicar for: (a) remembering from two months ago that we'd been decorating the bathroom; (b) being perceptive enough to realise that I will never be a woman who grouts; and (c) laughing with delight when I said we were more the whitewashed-sepulchres-over-a-seething-hotbed-of-sin type of Christians. Perhaps that's the sort he likes? In which case, I certainly don't blame him.

Meanwhile back at Basecamp One, I have been adding more to Ralph's section in Hallsfoot's Battle. He's been breaking a shed-load of taboos in terms of actually helping one of his traditionally downtrodden servants, so well done to Ralph. I didn't think you had it in you, sir. Mind you, I suspect it won't last - his motives are certainly mixed and he made damn sure no-one else saw. After all, it would be beyond imaginable if he actually upset the status quo and sullied the ages-long honour of the Tregannons by being thoughtful. He has enough on his plate as it is, what with the sudden arrival of the mind-executioner - he can't afford to be pleasant now. So, as a result of all that, I am at the grand total of 35,000 words and at the beginning of another scene where I roughly know what's going to happen (sort of), hurrah. Believe me, that writing scenario doesn't occur often - so in honour of this rare occasion, here's a picture of triumph to cheer us all on our way:



Tonight, I'm hoping to be catching up on TV I've missed during the last few days, although I'm not sure I'm up to watching "God on Trial" just yet. Too meaty for a Sunday, I think. I'll leave it till later in the week. Sunday evenings are strictly fluffy, you know. Especially with term starting at University tomorrow, sigh ...

And this week's haiku is:

In my forties, I vanished.
Life unhooked its moorings
from weary skin.


Today's nice things:

1. Church hymns and sepulchres
2. Hallsfoot's Battle
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website