Penitence and prevariction

Ash Wednesday is, oddly, one of my favourite days in the Christian calendar. As a way of setting regrets aside in a formal liturgical setting, it takes some beating. I don't need a season to do penitence - introverts are quite good at that - but to make Lent a season of preparation for Easter requires one to examine one's regrets and then leave them behind. As usual, the choice of music was at best mixed, but one can forgive much when Hyfrydol is the offertory hymn. However, one cannot forgive "Forty Days and Forty Nights" to the tune of "Scarlet Ribbons".

I *should* be writing. Well, I am, of course, but what I should be writing is a sample chapter of my book for which a very nice editor is waiting. Once again, I have a whole list of good excuses, but the fact is that about 6 hours' writing is required, so some time over the weekend, I need to get my nose to the grindstone.

I do have some good reasons why it isn't already finished. I had planned to spend last weekend on it, but then was distracted by third son, he of the late lamented golden curls. He'd had an accident trampolining, and it looked as if his ankle was broken. Eventually, his Dad took him for an x-ray, and it was one of those good-news-bad-news scripts: the good news is that the ankle is only sprained. The bad news is that we've found what looks like a tumour on the x-ray. Emails and MSN messages flew back and forth between here and Egypt, and he had an MRI scan a couple of days later, which suggest that it's merely a slightly abnormal, and rather harmless, growth of bone, though it still needs checking out.

The fun event of the month was only daughter's 21st, which very conveniently fell during her reading week, so she came up to Sheffield, and we all went out for a meal. After much food, wine and merriment, I took youngest son home, leaving the older siblings and friends to paint the town red. Finding an appropriate gift had me stumped for a while, but as she asked for something to keep, I had a ring inherited from her great great grandmother, who had the same name, resized to fit, and bought a pair of earrings to match.

Work, of course, always provides a good reason for not doing other things. This week I was examining some undergrads on liturgy, which proved to be enormous fun for them and for me, including as it did glove puppets, generous quantities of food and some rather surreal game playing. Some urgent additions to the webpage took a whole afternoon writing html in Notepad: I shall be very glad when that chore is parcelled out to someone else, though it does make for better written html than proprietory packages.

This week also saw the return home of limping third son. The stress of worrying about his leg and 9 hours on the road fetching him from Heathrow made work impossible that day, so today I took a break from the stress and the guilt and dragged a friend out to Burbage for a long walk in the wind and drizzle to blow the cobwebs away. It was a good day, and I'll sleep well, waking fresh tomorrow to write that chapter...