The plan was pretty simple, so I thought... do the 'Mum stuff' by day and the 'church stuff' in the evening.  I had under-estimated quite how much 'mum stuff' there was to do and how tired I'd be by the time I'd done it each day.  So it will be sermon-writing on the train home tomorrow - I have about five hours on my cheaper-than-standard-class first class journey, so can work whilst that nice Mr Branson plies me with tea and snacks!

One of today's little departures from plan was a bus ride out to where I used to live so that I could visit my Dad's grave.  The bus route has changed dramatically since I last went that way, but it was great - a circular route round the whole village passing many places from my childhood years before dropping me at 'my' old bus-stop to walk up the cemetry.  Very precious.

The poppy picture was some rough ground near where the (in my parlance 'new' (1977)) bus station used to be.  I love how it defies humanly created boundaries and reaches through the gaps offering its fleeting beauty to those beyond.  Somehow it spoke to me of hope and newness and oldness and preciously bittersweet moments.

The last few days have been very productive, even if I am now tired and tetchy.  Not quite according to my plans, but perhaps the better for it. An early start tomorrow, and a fond farewell to this place where so many of my formative years were spent.