Today started at 05.15 am when I was woken by one of the dogs banging on the the double doors downstairs. It had to be The Collie causing the trouble because Jem The Lakeland, just barks until someone appears. I lay listening, trying to work out what he was doing. He would bang the doors so they rattled then stop.Then he would start again. As The Curate had the early service, I thought I had better go and investigate. The Collie could see we had left the sitting room light on (by mistake) and having decided we were in there, he thought the day needed to begin! I let him out of the backdoor and stood waiting for him to return. I waited and waited - no dog. So at 5.30 I went out in bare feet and not much else, to try and persuade him to come back indoors. He went down on his front paws and laughed at me, challenging me to come further out and play with him. Hmmmm!
The curate went off to do the early service and he arrived back later than usual as he had been chatting. He sat down to breakfast, assuring me that the next service wasn't until 11.o'clock. So I browsed through the papers while he reread his sermon. You know what's coming - we arrived at the church to find a good number of cars.
'No bells' I commented.
'That's because we are early.' replied The Curate.
Glancing at the notice board I said, 'It says here that the service starts at 10.30'
The Curate then flew up the church path, wondering if the hymn being sung was the first or the third! I made a quiet entrance after him and slid into a pew.
I'd like to say things got better from that point but, unfortunately this wasn't the case. The Curate made a good start. The rhythms of the liturgy had a calming effect and he picked up the service with skill. We sang, we prayed and we listened to the readings - so did The Curate. The readings were not the ones he was expecting or the ones he had based his sermon around! In other circumstances, he would have checked with the readers before the service. When he was a Methodist Local preacher (before Anglican days) he was expected to make contact with the church before the service and confirm readings and music. This was very good practice and one that The Curate will be remembering in future! The sermon was shorter than usual but I don't think anyone minded. Fortunately they are a lovely congregation, and they have allowed The Curate to find his feet and any mistakes are forgiven.
 |
| Is it raining? I need my cape in a bag!! |
The last people to leave the church were able to witness The Curate's
second photo shoot for the
Ultimate Clergy Cape. This time he was trying out a light weight fold away cape. He is not a good model when people are watching - but it caused a laugh!
By the time we arrived at the local pub, we were more than ready for the excellent lunch served there.
After a frantic few weeks, The Curate was beginning to show signs of wear and tear! To be fair he was not well and very tired so it was time for me to take action and to find somewhere for some R and R away from the maddening crowd. As The Curate becomes more recognised in the parish, the harder it becomes to stay put and take his day off - especially if he is going to walk the dogs. I lost him last Friday when I went to take the Lakeland home and he walked on with the Collie to collect the newspaper. At the speed the Lakeland walks these days - we should have arrived home at the same time. After half an hour of being home alone, I decided I had better go and find him. He had been in conversation with three different people and, without his Rottweiler wife beside him, he found it difficult to end the conversations to get home to his breakfast. Time to escape! 
So we have just returned from three days in a sweet little Exmoor cottage - with no internet, no phone signal, no central heating ( just being installed), no microwave and no neighbours! The UK was just recovering from the wettest April in a hundred years and Liscombe on Exmoor had seen the most rainfall of all with 273.8 mm of rain compared with its 86.4 mm average. So I rented us a cottage five miles from this wet spot!! ( As if we don't have enough rain where we live!) Our adventures started with The Curate's navigation as he decided we should travel the straightest route from our house on Dartmoor to our cottage on Exmoor. On a map this seems possible but in reality it involved lots of small roads with grass growing up the centre and no passing places if you should meet the returning rural school buses (as we did). Eventually we did reach our destination - a little later than we expected. 
We had been warned that the ford on one of the roads to the cottage was flowing too fast to cross but fortunately we could take the other road in. Once we had unloaded the car, lit the log burner and put supper in the oven, we took the dogs to look at the river. The ancient foot bridge was still passable but not the road. On returning to the cottage we realised that we had locked ourselves out!! With windows that were sealed shut with paint and a new yale lock on the solid wooden door - there was no way in. The car keys and contact numbers were inside the cottage - and through the tiny kitchen window we could see our supper slowly blackening! Thank goodness for mobile phones and the sensible Curate keeping his in his pocket (unlike me). By walking up out of the valley, he was able to contact the owner who said he would be half an hour - too late for our supper! (We felt like a right pair of plonkers!) But we had plenty of other tasty bits and pieces and it was very easy to settle down to a cosy evening by the log burner. Although we were reminded of the benefits of modem day central heating (- there being none here) whenever we went to use the bathroom. We were very grateful for the thick quilts on the bed and dressed in front of the logburner. 
The walking was great but the evidence of the heavy rain was everywhere. The paths were running with water and resembled streams in places rather than paths. As the area was forested, trees had been blown over and washed down the river or washed up against the bridges causing some of the more fragile structures to wash away. 
The Curate and I loved living in an old cottage again and the dogs liked having an open fire again. The Curate is looking fitter and I feel refreshed enough to carry on with the last leg of the Curate's curacy.
