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. 

Yesterday one of our members led us in a service for Homelessness Sunday.  As part of this, we were invited to think about the foods we enjoy and to add our thanksgiving prayers for them to a table set in front of the Communion Table.  The suggestions were delightful - from 'sweet treats to cheer us up' to 'runny fried eggs with chips for dipping'.  Perhaps it was the time of year that influenced our choices of comfort food, but it was good to realise how very blessed we are.

We were told about street homelessness data and reminded how the local authority in our area responds to those in need.  And we shared communion, our beautifully prepared table immediately behind our visual prayer. 

I rather like to think that Jesus would have enjoyed egg and chips washed down with a mug of tea in a soup kitchen.  And I am reminded of this painting by Iain Campbell called 'Our Last Supper' whose 'models' are homeless and vulnerably housed men supported by Glasgow City Mission...