No really it is. This week at work, had horrible conversation which sort of ticked through a few diary dates and then pointed out that when they were done, it would be time to start writing letters out for the CHRISTMAS DRAW! Ignore it – I am.
It is very humid here in the South West of England, so that everyone has one of those headaches which feels like you have a cartoon anvil on your head. The days are a bit energy sapping, I think, I do struggle to get stuff done when it’s like this. Then, there are the twin distractions of Wimbledon and the World Cup. I am more of a footbally type person, I’m afraid. Probably means I’m common as muck but there you are.
Fruit of Womb One has returned to the fold for the summer (or at least some of it) This means that whenever I leave the house, I need to be careful always to return with a French Stick just in case the hunger pangs are overwhelming. (He is thin as a rake by the way) Aged parent has also joined in by stacking her freezer with food – just in case.
He spent nearly seven hours on the train to get back and he doesn’t have the shortest legs. He said it seemed like seven days. Myself, I just prayed for travelling mercies and got on with my day. The young people laugh when I pray for travelling mercies – not the praying – the phrase. Apparently, it makes me sound like something out of The Crucible. Well…
1. Ask me if I am bothered.
2. I think I might look quite fetching in one of those bonnets.
3. I love the phrase “Travelling Mercies.”. It has everything. An acknowledgement that God is in charge, you can’t think of everything that might happen and this just acknowledges that God watches over us. I love it. I am very much a commit it to God – all of it – kind of person.
If it were up to me, this family would still be singing “Jesus Tender Shepherd” before we went to bed. Apparently, that would be quite weird for a family in which the youngest member is 18.
“Jesus Tender Shepherd, hear me.
Bless thy little lamb tonight.
Through the darkness, be thou near me
Keep me safe till morning light
To be sung in child’s lisping voice while parent sobs. Possibly to be followed by “This Little Piggy Went To Market” if they insist.