Well here we are, still surrounded by a number of boxes but we know where our towels are, also our toothbrushes and our knickers (you'll be glad to know). Haven't yet managed to unpack my Bible, though I do now know where it is. Don't know if that means I'll have to resign as Church Warden. Have spent rather more time in quiet contemplation of the Dulux colour chart lately.
So after one of the more exhausting and less spiritual weeks of our lives (despite doing the 'Sit back and relax' service...there's a laugh...) we're about to redress the balance and make the annual pilgrimage to Greenbelt festival. The lovely Paul Roberts offered to take our tent up and pitch it for us, seeing as we'd spent all week pitching a somewhat bigger and sturdier tent, so the hard work is done. The sun looks fixed on shining for the duration, Richard's practised the song he's singing at the Foundation service on Friday evening, and then it's Billy Bragg! Hurrah!
This year is the first time we'll have taken both kids for the duration. I'm hoping they'll get something really positive out of it, and not just spend the whole time in the bead tent. Neither are interested in queuing up for the children's activities. They're hoping for some comedy, preferably silly poems with Paul Cookson; a film or two; the animals; and escaping any enforced traipsing round labyrinths. They also love being with adults when they're being silly. Shouldn't be difficult. Richard wants music, old friends and a mental workout. I want a bit of vegging out, just being, with and without other people.
Oh - and I'd be delighted if God showed up. Though I strongly suspect he's already got his tent pitched, and is probably waiting in the beer tent for the rest of us to get there for another hymn-singing session.