You’ve no doubt tired of my excuses regarding the lack of detailed and thoughtful blogging. For this occasion you can use the handy cut out and keep interactive excuse machine below to locate the right excuse for you.

 

Just say the words busy, tired, London, double booked, tired, late, City fan in a northern mumble and you’ll have something approximating the truth.

 

Two moments from the weekend seem to have done that internal resonance thing where you have a moment of self-actualisation.

 

The first occurred on Saturday. I wasn’t planning to do very much – last weekend was full of busy work, and so will next weekend, so I try and keep things chilled on the ‘in betweens’. So I woke up, got my study done, went for a run, played some master league and a few rounds on tiger woods, you know the usual twentysomething approach to Saturdays. Then Andy, Rachel P and I went over to Will’s to throw the Frisbee around and knock some cricket balls in time honoured tradition. In less time honoured tradition we hit the sauna (awesome when you add this crazy oil that makes the whole thing like swimming in vaporub – colds, be gone!) and the hot tub.

 

And yet I always get a creeping sense of niggling melancholy at such moments when I’m enjoying myself. I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I’d much rather be further on in my life than I am now in terms of relationships, and then my subconscious takes a detour round all the missed opportunities and crazy randoms and let downs – most of which inflicted by me on others I’ll freely admit. And I get confused.

 

But the moment – the realisation – was this; that a ‘hope deferred makes the heart sick’ like nothing else. That a slow and gradual fading of a dream harms you more than any desperate crisis & blow up. When things go crazy – shouting, screaming, crying, accusations, recriminations, revenge and the like, at least you’ve got a STORY at the end of it. When things just fizzle out, splutter and breathe their last, you’re just powerless. And crucially you feel like it’s not important enough to bother God with, so you don’t seek the healing that’s yours. Big crises lead us into big time repentance and prayer – little, gradual compromises and acceptances of the status quo do a much better job of getting us off track from our Kingdom mission.

 

Moment two. Sunday was a lot of fun. More study, more coffee, church in the morning, cricket practice (No yips! Stage one of rehab is bowling off two steps. Went much better. Plus I pulverised some genuinely quick bowling with my “trademark” leg side wristy drives and lofted hoiks. Got a few laughs for referring to cow corner as my ‘accumulation’ area. We always do a thing at the end of your net when you get given a target off your last 6 balls – mine was 17. Smashed two huge leg side sixes and drove one off the back foot a la KP for an impressive final over. So it seems I can bat but can’t bowl – the Lord giveth and the lord taketh away . . .) straight to get marts and Akin-Smith to watch Rugby (I have watched 5 lives games at Ashton Gate and the team I support have lost every time. I shouldn’t be allowed to go really). The running to Christ Church to watch Sam C get dunked. And Smooth make me giggle by sketching body parts on the order of service. And the Woodlands crew whooping and cheering in Christchurch.

 

So instead of pubbing, I chose the going home option. Made my favourite Chorizo pasta and poured a chilled Guinness . . . .

 

Just . . . heaven.