So I am now a couple of weeks into my tweaked working pattern.  In that time I have worked some seriously long days (longest was about 14 hours, don't tell anyone ;-) )and have achieved loads.  I have found myself able to sit down and read sizable chunks of real theology - something I have not been about to do since chemo addled my brain almost two and a half years ago.  I have had the kind of energy I used to take for granted (albeit with kn*ckered joints to limit my endeavours somewhat).  And, importantly, I have started to find sermons 'flowing' rather than being wrung out of me.  Sermon prep has finally stopped feeling like wading through treacle, and twice in as many weeks I have sat down and written what I think to be a half decent draft at the first attempt.

Is this, then, me emerging finally from chemo-brain, or is it more that I have found a pattern that works with my strengths?  Who can tell.  My memory is still not what it was, but I do find that I am starting to retain more 'new' information and I have less 'holes' in my mind that I did... or at least I think I do.  Some of that has to be down to better coping strategies, because I still totally forget about things unless I write them down.

Perhaps then, it is because I have, finally, just about recovered my full energy levels?  I have felt like I was at 90-95% for a long time, but never quite been able to recover that last bit, the bit that gives a spark.  Could it be that re-ordering my days has done that for me?

Long term drug side effects continue, I have no doubt of that: there are times everyday when I feel generally bleurgh for a few minutes.  The low grade exhaustion of almost ten years in ordained ministry has its inevitable impact, and I know all too well that I need space for spiritual refreshment.  For all that, I do feel as if I've finally climbed out of the treacle I've been wading through the past few months, and begun to walk freely again.

I just hope it lasts!  And I hope it has a positive impact on my ministry.

...dictates that I am working from home whilst waiting for a courier to arrive with my new office chair, ready to go into my strangely tidy spare room as it morphs into a work space (desk due to arrive sometime next week!).  By the wonder of parcel tracking, I know it left Tamworth yesterday evening and travelled via Preston to Glasgow before setting of just before 7 a.m. to get to me.  I did have to nip out to the dentist, but there is no evidence of a missed delivery, so what're the chances I am stuck here until the evening waiting for it arrive?  And does posting this aid or jinx time of arrival?!!

Sermon prep going well, so it is a day being well employed, if not quite as planned.

This afternoon my 'day off' treat was going to watch the film adaptation of the musical adaptation of Victor Hugo's novel.

One word: BRILLIANT!

I had enjoyed the stage version greatly when I saw in Manchester more than a decade ago (somehow we managed to wangle a deal where we got tickets for that and Phantom of the Opera for a really good price), but to my surprise, I think I did enjoy this more.

Superbly cast, with a clever blend of pathos and humour, some stunning scenery and wonderful music, it was quite simply a great afternoon out.  Rich in ideas about religion and faith, rule following and rule breaking, good and evil, life and death, hope and despair... I'm definitely glad I went to see it.

Mix that with a bit of spare room blitzing so that it now has space to install a desk ready to give me a sabbatical workspace, and it has been just lovely.  One happy bunny!

Yesterday evening, our monthly social event was entitled "An Evening with Robert Burns" and combined some lovely singing (solo and participative), readings of some of Burns' better and lesser known poems, some background information and a couple of items either about him or responding to him.  It was great fun, and a decent number of people enjoyed munching oatcakes and cheese, shortbread, Dundee cake (I presume, it was already cut up!) and tablet.  For those who wished there was Irn Bru, for those who didn't there was tea and coffee.

I had fun, but there was, fleetingly, as we sang Auld Lang Syne at the end, a moment of deep homesickness, a sense, I suppose, that this is not 'who' or 'what' I am, and that there is an invisible cord that will always bind me to... well, where?  That was the question I ended up pondering.  I have a real dislike of nationalism and, along with lots of English people would instinctively define as 'British' not 'English'.  I don't get all "gooey and patriotic" when I hear 'Rule Britannia' or 'Jerusalem' or anything else. Likewise, I don't feel excluded or marginalised by "Flower of Scotland" or "Hen Wlad Fy Nhadu" or any other anthem or patriotic song.

When I moved from the North West (NW) of England to take up my pastorate in Dibley, I was dreadfully, and unexpectedly, homesick for the NW.  Unexpected because Dibley is only about forty miles from where I grew up.  Unexpected because I have moved many times, and come from a family in which moving is perfectly normal, even across national and international borders.  I still do not know quite why I was homesick, or what it was I yearned for, but once I had recognised it, I was able to let it go and enjoy this new community.

I think what surprised me last night was that, until that moment, I have never felt the least bit homesick since I moved to Glasgow.  I have felt welcomed, accepted and loved from day one, just as I am.  Sometimes I have had to bite my tongue when sweeping generalisations are made about "them" (English people) and what "they" think/want/do/are/say.  But at the same time, it has alerted me to the same tendencies in myself in relation to others.  And it was fleeting, I still am very happy and 'at home' here, that is why it was such a surprise to feel it.

Robert Burns lived from 25 January 1759 to 21 July 1796.  Dibley Baptist church emerged in the 1740's, with the first wooden chapel being erected in (I think) 1749.  In 1798, the chapel was granted independence from its 'parent' and has maintained a faithful witness since.  It seems, somehow, quite fitting that these two vastly different aspects of human history were broadly contemporaneous, and how each has in some way impacted my life.

It was a lovely evening, and I hope people are encouraged to plan another 'Evening With...' sharing food, fellowship, words and music.  I did suggest maybe Chaucer, so that no-one would understand a word of it, rather than just me... either that or Gerard Manley Hopkins!

One thing that struck me as funny... we had two kinds of cheese, one was Scottish Cheddar and the other Red Leicester... how authentically Scottish was that?!

The now demolished chapel at Dibley at Dibley had a series of 'foundation stones' with the names of four powerful men who had been benefactors at the time of its construction.  Above each name was a little inscription that ran, if memory serves, "God our Father", "Christ our Saviour", "The Spirit our Helper"  and "Heaven our Home".  I'm not sure that it is possible to be homesick for heaven (unless perhaps you are Jesus (discuss!)) but I do think that there is something about our common identity that ought to come before our local/national identity, without denying our reasonable sense of belonging and pride in "our" compatriots and "our" place.  All of which means I will feel no embarrassment supporting the England netball team in next year's Commonwealth Games, at the same time as delighting with the host nation when Scottish participants excel.

At the end of the film 'Jesus of Montreal', the guy who has played Jesus dies in a tragic accident, and his organs are harvested, bringing 'good news' to people of all races, nations and, probably, faiths.  It matters not what you think about the film, this final illustration of the Christ who died for all, that they might have restored sight and abundant life, has stayed with me.

This morning Baptist Times has an article about a new initiative to get faith groups to become proactive in blood and organ donation.  Flesh and Blood is a new initiative endorsed by most mainstream Christian denominations.  I think it is creative and interesting.  It will intriguing to see how people respond to it.

Being unable to donate blood any more is a sadness, and I get mixed messages about organ donation (CRUK website says I probably could, my tame oncologist says I couldn't) but if I could, I certainly would.  What about you?