4.

 The prospect of a whole Saturday spent in church, especially when it's another glorious day of sunshine and azure skies, is not one I was relishing. The Clapton Park 'away day at home' is something of an institution dreamt up several years ago after we'd had such fun on our annual church holiday together. We couldn't really justify going away again, but surely setting aside a day a year 'at home' would be another great excuse for some food, frolics and fascinating conversation?

That was the idea, and still is. But never the less each time it comes around I have a terribly bad habit of dreading it. This isn't helped by the fact that somehow it gets longer every year, roughly coinciding with my increasing busyness. I also dread the cajoling that I am going to have to do to get the kids to engage, so it was with some surprise that around 15 minutes before it officially started I turned to N and said 'you do realise all our kids have already left for church?'! Possibly this had more to do with the lure of croissants and a second breakfast rather than any innate spirituality, but I still found it pretty impressive. Later on I learned that they had even been roped into helping set chairs and tables out and generally make themselves useful.

Anyway to cut a long story short I had a lovely day. A bit of adult only time, full of free wheeling philosophical conversation; a bit of craftiness (see below a close up of a rather lovely lent installation which will hang in the lobby for the season.. a reflection on temptations and wilderness); a bit of sunshine and discovery with a 4 year old and 7 year old on a 'street retreat'; shared food and the craziness of a Clapton Park cabaret to follow. All good. And to top it all Rose came by. Rose has been in hospital since well before Christmas, a straight forward infection in her leg transferring to a rather scary heart infection and surgery. She's been telling the Doctors since the beginning of January that she was going to get to the church away day. So they let her out for the afternoon and in she came, leaning on Pete, looking a bit frail, a bit thin, and a bit unsteady, but steely with determination. We formed an impromptu tunnel of arms held high and they both walked down it, her wanting to hug everyone in it. Lost for words, and teary-eyed, she sat down at the little comfy chair we'd prepared, and though it might have worn her out physically you could see that it probably did her more good spiritually and emotionally than any amount of medication in the Homerton. They are good people, these Clapton Park people. And though I am a grumpy and complaining sometimes I was reminded just how good it is to be part of this community. This big alternative family.