The River Clyde from the railway bridge south of Glasgow Central Station a little after 4pm today.  So beautiful.

I had been up to Glasgow to attend a funeral, which had needed an overnight stay with a friend. 

The northbound journey took two hours longer than anticipated, all due a signal failure at Lockerbie and the knock-on effects across the network.  It was interesting to watch how people reacted to the delays, some becoming angry and trying to force their way onto already overcrowded trains, and others engaging in friendly chatter and helping each other out.  In the end, my journey included standing from Carlisle to Glasgow on a very slow train, but I got there, which was what mattered. 

Last night a group of Gathering Place folk gathered to chat over nibbles, and it was such a joy to see them and to hear their news.

Today the funeral was ably led and well attended, a lovely tribute to a dearly loved man.  Whilst it was odd not having any official role in the funeral (I reckon it's more than twenty years since I went to one 'just' as person) it was also lovely not to have to do or be anything.

At the station in Glasgow, I bumped into someone I knew from a different context, and we had a lovely ten minute chat before she went on her way. The journey home was delayed and got more and more so as delays and cancellations built up.  But it was such a glorious evening for a ride down through the south of Scotland and the Lake District, I couldn't do other than enjoy the ride.

I do feel blessed - I travelled safely (and now have a claim in for the entire cost of my ticket due to the level of delay!), I was well cared for, I saw people who matter to me, and now I am home.  Those, surely, are blessings worth counting.

Today I was doing some research for a conference paper I'm writing, so I was reading the chapter in the photo to learn more about early women Baptist ministers in Scotland.

As I read the stories, I was surprised at the emotions they raised - I'm someone who gets told off for being 'too stoic' but here I was, not sure whether to cry or rage at what I was reading, and the injustice of it all.  A story that could have been so very different, but never will be because of a context that made certain decisions at certain times.

It's not often I have to stop reading 'facts' to process my emotions, but today I did.

Today I want to honour Jane, Muriel, Marjorie and Beth, women whose stories are unknown to most Baptists in Scotland, and who courageously walked the path that led, eventually, to my own appointment in 2009.  If I encountered misogyny, prejudice and isolation - and I did - it was as nothing to these sisters or foremothers or whatever name we choose to give them.

I am not sure if I am made more sad or more angry by what I have read, but I am glad that I have read it, and will be sure these  names are heard in the story I choose to tell.

On Saturday, I had a day trip to Bute - long, cat-lady story, but the Clepto Kitties have a Twitter pal who lives there.  It was a long day (left home at 05:15 got back at 22:00) but it all went like clockwork, and I had a lovely time.

I am very blessed to have friend all across these islands, and to have the wherewithal to visit them from time to time.

And an odd historical moment, as the news of the death of Alex Salmond flashed onto my phone as I was on a train between Wemyss Bay and Glasgow... it felt somehow 'right' to be in Scotland for that moment.

Yesterday we joined with our local Methodists for a joint service.  As I looked around the 'sanctuary' I spotted a familiar sight - a print of the Salvador Dali Christ of St John of the Cross, which belongs to Glasgow City Council and is to be found at Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery (expect when it's off on tour).

A painting I've known for half a century, and loved since I first clapped eyes on it.  It was a nice memory-stirring moment to see it on the wall of a church in Crewe (I didn't read the plaque underneath so have no idea who donated it or why).

Doing a little lightweight research for the conference paper I am due to write!

It's always so weird seeing my name in history books.

More research to do next week... grateful the other book I need to read is in the Vicar School library as it's prohibitively expensive just to check a few pages.