As the relaxation of Covid restrictions continues, I have begun to gather small groups of church folk (who wish to) to meet up for coffee and a chat out of doors - we are permitted up to six people from six households outside.

On Sunday, the first group met - it was cold, and I took a blanket with me to keep my legs warm!  But it was really good to see actual flesh and blood people rather than boxes on a screen.

Like around 30% of people int he UK,. I live alone, and having no-one with whom to form an 'extended household' the past fourteen months are so have been such that most days I don't speak to anyone face-to-face.  Indeed, at one point I sat down and reflected that the only indoor conversations I had, the lasted more than a minute to pay at a supermarket till, were with the medical professionals who checked my teeth or eyesight, took blood or injected vaccines into my arm.  What's sobering is that that is the 'normal' and unchosen experience of so many older people.

Last Friday, I met with two ministers in a garden to plan a joint 'blended' service; Sunday, as illustrated with three folk from church; and yesterday, I took a train to meet one person in an indoor cafe setting.

At one level, I smile at the absurdity of considering these as being 'out out', at another, I simply delight in the possibilties that are becoming possible because most people have kept most of the rules most of the time.

For food, and friends and fellowship, God's holy name be praised!

Today it's twelve years to the date since my first preach at the Gathering Place.  One way and another, I think that adds up to the greater part of 500 sermons/reflections/whatevers by the time evenings and special services are included.

This might explain why I sometimes wonder what there is left to say... though I have long since forgotten most of what I have said!

It's been an adventure for sure, and one that, DV, still has a way to go.

Two outings, two branches of the same coffee chain, two different ranges of treats...

One was Milngavie, the other Cambuslang...
One was a fancy lemon tartlet, the other a gingerbread Easter bunny

I enjoyed them both equally, but as the saying goes, context is all!

Now that the restrictions on travel have been relaxed, and as I am on leave, I have taken the opportunity to venture a little further afield - though still starting for my own front door, and until this afternoon all on foot.

On Friday I took along walk along the River Kelvin and Allander Water to Milngavie, where I had a take away latte and a sweet treat before walking home the short way.

Today I walked eastwards along the River Clyde for around 12 miles to Cambuslang, where I repeated the coffee and treat thing, before opting to catch the train home, as I had something I needed to be back for, and it would have been too much of a rush to walk, even by the shortest, road-based route.

The train arrived late - which made me smile, some things don't seem to change - was fairly quiet and generally clean and tidy.  It was nice to be back on a train after such a long gap, and it was a positive experience. Well done to ScotRail.

Today the news tells us that the Duke of Edinburgh has died aged 99.  That's a very long life, and, I am sure, far from an easy one, no matter how privileged it was.

The photos above connect to memories of the day I met him, less than 2m away from me, just shy of forty years ago in June 1981.

I was wearing a hand-me-down GB Officer's uniform, gifted to me by someone whose niece had recently died of cancer, because she knew there was no way my parents could afford to buy me a new or even second hand uniform.

Passing through the crowds, and then past the police into the courtyard was a magical moment for this girl from a council house - the culmination of lots of hard work and determination.

My mum would comment on the shabbiness of some of what we passed on our way to the 'supper room east' (or something like that) and that the Duke's suit had seen better days.  Whatever, it was beyond my wildest imaginings, being there with other equally eager young adults (I was one of the youngest) as we waited for him to reach our group.  He was genial, funny, interested in what we had done.  Though he didn't speak directly to me, it felt very inclusive and welcoming.

Whatever anyone may think of him, or about royality, today a man has died who leaves behind a wife, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.  A man who inspired generations of young adults to complete challenging expeditions, to volunteer in their local communities, to learn new skills and to take their place in society, hopefully the better for the experience.

D of E gave me opportunities nothing else could.  It contributed to my love of hill walking, enabled me to develop leadership skills, and, yes, long before anyone could buy a ticket to go inside Buck House, I went there. These memories are precious.

Prince Philip, like us all, was a child of God.  May he rest in peace and rise in glory.