A smooth train ride back from London today and a return to the rural ministry straight into several messages from a funeral firm who are trying to arrange a service and burial. Away for just on 48 hours but some people expect me to be instantly available every day. Tough. I need my space no matter how pastoral the demands are. Even Jesus strolled off into the hills every now and again. The needs of the sick and dying didn't stop just because he wasn't around for a short while. Twenty minutes on the phone and most of the arrangements are sorted.
And just to make another point clear - I did not see any students in London yesterday, and I most certainly did not walk around the city with tins of white paint.
Now ... where's that turps?
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