Today is pretty varies and yet much of a piece.

As is the way this week, I am running late with everything - not my 'style' and not very energising it has to be said.  Still, overall things are good and enjoyable.

After yesterday's fun game of sending dead chairs to the tip and, with the help of two friends, getting a new table into my (overcrowded with oddments of furniture) kitchen, today should be calmer!

A sermon to write, lunchtime reflection in which to participate, then a train ride to Edinburgh for charity carol service.

Once Christmas is past I really, really, really must get rid of some of the extraneous stuff that clutters my home!

The Seecond Coming

by W B Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?