Do you recall those endless games your parents made you play (or you have made your children play) to while away long journeys?  Well I'm now playing one as I decide what are the essentials for Friday's train ride to Bournemouth.

I'm Going to Baptist Assembly and in my suitcase is...

• a delegate's badge or they won't let me in!
• a pair of flip-flops so that I am properly dressed for attending Prism
• a Bible for the Prism Bible study - because when Simon says (no, that's not another game) "the clue is in the title" and people look sheepish, I don't wish to be one of them.  Trouble is the main arena Bible study isn't, its a sermon, so you don't really need a Bible...
• A 'silent cheer' or two for the reception of ministers who have completed their NAM period
• Some flat shoes I can run in (or the nearest I ever come to running) to get between venues for seminars etc.
• A mobile phone so I can find the people I want to find in the main arena
• Some plastic money for all the stuff I'll end up buying - BMS harvest, Operation Agri harvest, new BUGB directory, bits of tat for church
• A nice squishable cotton bag for carrying said items
• A thick jumper, a thin tee-shirt, a waterproof and some sunscreen -cos you never know if it'll be hot/cold/wet/dry

There are various things I'm looking forward to for various reasons including

• The reception of ministers (and the subversive act of silent cheering)
• The In Memoriam - always poignant when I know people listed there, and this year are names of two linked with Dibley one of whom was a wonderful RM and friend of my folk.  (Thinks... better add tissues to suitcase!)
• The NBC reunion and a chance to catch up with peers and friends
• Prism
• Still Centre, Open Space
• Seeing friends from more Baptist churches than I can count, drinking tea/coffee, walking on the beach

Admitting to loving Assembly is not 'cool' but then 'cool' was never my thing.  Aspects of it may grate, irritate or frustrate but I do love this diverse and crazy world that is Baptist life and it is a privilege to be called to serve within it.

The former Dibley Baptist Church building begins its demolition process today.  It is a slightly weird sensation watching the physical deconstruction of a place where I worshipped and worked (if only for 12 months).  Good, because the land will be serving local needs and hence the Kingdom, strange, because we no longer own it and I have no 'right' to know what is happening yet people still ask me what's happening.  Hopefully I can capture some of it on camera for church archives - and try to work out how to help my folk reflect effectively on what it all means.

This morning I discovered I had mislaid my diary - a small (A6) black book about 5mm thick and of no commercial value whatsoever.  But without it I was lost - I knew I had no meetings today but, good disicple that I am, not a clue what lay in store tomorrow or beyond without checking this little treasure.  I wouldn't say panic ensued, but much parable-like (parabolic?!) high and low searching went on before deducing that it wasn't in my house but had been left behind last night at GB after I'd been temporarily distracted during my clearing up.  Thankfully after an unscheduled drive to and from that church, my diary and I are reunited and I know what is happening in my little world.

What did people do before diaries?  Did they have good memories, less meetings or both?  Did they mark notches on sticks to tell them when it was Sunday and time to ring the bells for services (presumably the lack of bells in non-conformist traditions, even after they become tolerated and legal so didn't need to hide, reflects to some extent the point in history at which they emerged?).

It is a tad disconcerting to think that my life is, in some senses,  in the 'hands' of a little black book - and not the type that ministers are meant to have surgically attached!