Church going
Good work on The New Idea this morning. Managed in five hours to finish a particularly thorny section. Took myself out in the rain to celebrate. As I walked down the backstreet passed a soaked woman battling with her umbrella, who said, 'turned out nice again' with an almost wartime spirit.
Found myself in St Bartholomew's church again. My smile unreturned by the snowy-haired ladies who were guardians of the empty place. I took a pew for half an hour and looked at the altar's glistering Byzantine-style gold mosaic work. The halo of an angel triggered a Proustian memory of making Christmas cards with glitter at my first school St Martin's in Guernsey. Jotted some lines down in the church, and left with a question to myself that what if the Christian promise was actually true? How would you feel if it were suddenly proved beyond question that there really had been someone watching over you all the way from childhood? I wish I could believe it.
Then to Sainsbury's and then sat at the cafe opposite, which now serves alcohol, as I sipped my Americano and fiddled with lines, I noticed two Muslim guys tucking into stealthy pints of lager. The joy of forbidden fruit. Reminded me of how my English teacher at school Mr Levine used to talk with fanatical eyes about the deliciousness of bacon sandwiches.
Betty how on antibiotics, and I cooked in the evening for her and Lorraine who had a tricky work day. Holidays next week thank God.
Below St Bartholomew's Church. Lovely.
Found myself in St Bartholomew's church again. My smile unreturned by the snowy-haired ladies who were guardians of the empty place. I took a pew for half an hour and looked at the altar's glistering Byzantine-style gold mosaic work. The halo of an angel triggered a Proustian memory of making Christmas cards with glitter at my first school St Martin's in Guernsey. Jotted some lines down in the church, and left with a question to myself that what if the Christian promise was actually true? How would you feel if it were suddenly proved beyond question that there really had been someone watching over you all the way from childhood? I wish I could believe it.
Then to Sainsbury's and then sat at the cafe opposite, which now serves alcohol, as I sipped my Americano and fiddled with lines, I noticed two Muslim guys tucking into stealthy pints of lager. The joy of forbidden fruit. Reminded me of how my English teacher at school Mr Levine used to talk with fanatical eyes about the deliciousness of bacon sandwiches.
Betty how on antibiotics, and I cooked in the evening for her and Lorraine who had a tricky work day. Holidays next week thank God.
Below St Bartholomew's Church. Lovely.
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