This a busy week, punctuated by the start of "the clearing of clutter" in the Dibley manse (a massive project) in which beginnings and endings and lots of travelling are intertwined.

Yesterday I spoke for the final time at Foxhuntington women's meeting - and had to smile that they'd chosen as their reading part of Luke 17 referring to end times on a day when a fairly serious thunder storm was happening - lightning even flashing right on cue.  So now I know, thunder is not angels banging drums (as the 4+ children told me last week) it is God chortling over some private joke on humanity; silly scientists, fancy thinking it's an electrical discharge!! ;-)

Today the lunch club wrinklies have a 'magical mystery tour' and I did suggest to the Almighty that 'dry would be good.'  I'm not a great fan of praying for good weather but I really can't face a coach load of screaming 90 year-olds if we have a big storm!  Also, paddling to a cafe for tea and cake is just not much fun.

Tomorrow is an early start as I fly up to Glasgow in time for breakfast for a couple of days with No Name Church (I used to work for a company whose initials were NNC, stnading for National Nuclear Corporation.  When GEC took us over the name was changed to NNC Ltd (a title allegedly bought cheaply from a small chip shop owner, something like Ned and Nancy's Chips) which stood for nothing, so we re-christned it the No Name Company.  In due course the church's online name will emerge I'm sure).  Lots of practical matters to talk over and a chance to explore the area a bit.

Saturday is the wedding at D+1 and then on Sunday after our service I will be driving to Manchester in the hope of arriving to share with another little church in the final service before their building is closed due to a compulsory purchase order (we may have had to close our buidling, but at least we had ages to clear it and it was sold and demolished pretty much on our terms).  Please pray for Tim and Clare and all at the home of dancing scarecrow as they move out into their own wilderness wanderings.

It may well be a little quieter in this corner of blogland for a bit - which is maybe no bad thing, as I suspect that sometimes, as my dad used to say, I open my mouth and my belly rumbles.

OK, so inspired by comments by Jim and Andy on a recent post, and with apologies to Robin Mark, here is the revised, non-standard version of my unfavourite song of the moment, designed to be used (or not) at a forthcoming event marking my ejection/exduction/chucking out from/leaving of Dibley...

If anyone has any more verses they wish to add, feel free via the comments section.  And if it looks a bit odd in Explorer (some with imported text seem to) ... well do as I did and shift to Firefox or some other more whizzy browser.

These aren’t the days of Elijah,

His chariot long since has flown:

And these aren’t the days of Your servant Moses,

No manna has been seen for years.

For these are days of departure,

When Dibley’s minister goes north,

And, we are a voice in the school hall singing

‘We think its the will of the Lord.’

Behold she goes, riding on a plane,

Or driving in a car, fallowing the call;

Lift your voice, it’s the day she goes away,

Abducted, expelled or what’s it called?.

These aren’t the days of Ezekiel,

No weird wheeled creatures we see;

And these aren’t the days of Your servant David,

- whose conduct simply won’t become

One in the pastoral office,

Whose life must be whiter than white!

For they must obey BUS and BUGB

To keep their names on the roll...