This evening I visited the chapel at Glasgow's Western Infirmary for the first and last time, sharing in a poignant and beautiful service/ceremony to mark its closure along with the hospital in a few weeks time.

I have spent many hours at the Western... twice in A&E as a patient, umpteen times in Clinic 5 (breast clinic) and even more in MAU, F1, F2, G2, G3 and level 10 visiting folk from church.  The privilege of holding the hand of very sick people... The anxiety and the relief of results... the cup of tea from a china cup on the day I learned what fear actually is... the conversations in the car park or in lifts...

As the Western closes and services are sent elsewhere, an era ends.  The future will be fine, in time the concerns (some of which are really quite serious) will be overcome and we will all forget that once we sat in a tatty, draughty Victorian hospital that was built a year after the Gathering Place.  The memories will live on on the hearts of all for whom it was a place of work or a place of treatment.  I am grateful for the Western and was pleased to be there tonight to say 'goodbye'.

I still wish I knew the answer to that one!  So far today it has included...

Admin stuff before I left home

Putting a new battery in the clock in the church corridor

An important meeting off site

A phone call on an important and fairly urgent matter

A 'door-knocking' encounter from folk in crisis and needing support

Sorting out heating for a room hire where it seemed not to have kicked in on time, which involved both checking the timers and carting numerous heaters and fire guards around the building.

And it still isn't lunch time!

So of course, instead of work, I opt for the displacement activity of blogging.