Flanders and Swann were right...

July: end of term, summer holidays, sunshine and leisure... er, no. The beginning of July was busier even than the end of term normally is, as we tried to make up the teaching sessions we missed when Sheffield was flooded. With half the staff away at Methodist Conference, this required more than the usual amount of juggling, but with the generous co-operation of students and a bit of creative time management, everyone had all the teaching time they were supposed to have and we're now into a rash of tutorials as students prepare their module essays.

I did manage to steal a little time off for a short city break with my lover, and the restorative effect of good food, museums and libraries, and gentle, attentive company made me feel human again. The effect was marginally compromised by the almighty hangover I came home with, but even that was a reminder of a lovely time away.

The Urban and Contextual Theology Summer School started the day I returned, and it was the best I remember. Practitioners and academics spent two days sharing papers describing and exploring experience and theology. I've been working on the concept of sacrament in cyberspace, so I floated some early thinking and was rewarded with some useful new directions to investigate. These summer schools are also very congenial affairs, and two of the delegates and I went out on the Thursday evening. We were an odd assortment - a Roman Catholic priest in mufti, a black Anglican vicar in full clericals and I, strolling through the cemetery on a summer's evening, being hailed by a young black man who waved at us and called "Jesus saves, brother" as we passed by on the way to the pub and the Indian restaurant across the road.

With both boys now off school, their social lives have become more noticeable, and I often come home to assorted teenagers draped over the furniture or clustered round the computers. It's pleasure to see how the odd bunch of kids they all were is turning into such a nice group of young men, keeping their friendships intact through changes of schools and circumstances.

But sunshine? Not a chance! Flanders and Swann's description seems about right:

"In July the sun is hot
Is it shining? No, it's not"

July has been the wettest on record, I believe. The slightly overgrown garden of June turned into a tropical jungle in weather that varied only between heavy rain and drizzle. Bindweed took over one corner of the garden and crept along the back of the house, and knee-high grass had to be trampled down when the boys wanted to play swingball. The usual summer visitors, birds, butterflies and ladybirds, were replaced by slugs, snails and earthworms, so that the garden started to feel like some kind of dank, moisture-ridden underworld.

But at last it feels as if summer is in the air. We've had several days together that have been sunny and warm. Fourth son and I have spent two days hacking away the misbegotten greenery, cutting grass and turning the jungle into a garden again. Five sacks of garden waste and two rubble bags of rotten wood have gone from the garden to the council recycling site, and the butterflies are flitting around the windflowers. This evening, we're having a barbecue to celebrate.

The forecast for tomorrow is rain. Fleeting joys...

[Art gallery photograph from:
http://x642.freefoto.com/images/37/08/37_08_89---Manchester-Art-Gallery--Mosley-Street--Manchester_web.jpg?&k=Manchester+Art+Gallery%2C+Mosley+Street%2C+Manchester]