This is probably demonstrable proof I've lost the plot and, if so, I'm blaming it on the army of microspcopic life forms currently sojourning in my pharynx!

Walking through my dining room this morning and passing a table groaning under items for Friday's labyrinth - palm crosses, bowl and towel, chains, pebbles, purple fabric - and waiting for the postie to deliver the myrrh anointing oil (from a USA Messianic Jewish supplier) I found myself idly postulating the idea of God having a dining table on which items are laid out ready for the big events.  OK so it's nuts, and probably really bad theology, but there's something kind of comforting about a myth of a table with all the elements of creation laid out on it in readiness (and it's actually no more "unscriptural" than hands flinging stars into space (which is a wonderful line) when compared with Genesis 1).

Ok, I'll go and lie down in a darkened room now until the fog of my mind clears!