More extra miles being walked by our demolishers - well not ours exactly - as they delivered all the plaques that had once graced the chapel walls to my driveway to await transfer to our graveyard where they will form some sort of lasting memorial to, er, the building!  The sale contract requires them to salvage and return to us four inscribed foundation stones from the front of the building (which will come down quite soon now) but we had accepted that the plaques would have to go with the building.

So now my drive looks like the yard at the undertakers - littered with monumental stonemasonry - and reversing onto it is 'interesting' as fit my Saxo into a smaller space than usual avoiding damage to the plaques and protecting them from vandals and thieves.

Just in case burglar Bill passed by I have photographed them all, and the one below recalls the first ever minister of this church... from Orton to Gorton in two centuries!

Some how I can't see a plaque to my memory ever being erected in a church - for which I am extremely grateful - nor will I serve a congregation for 50 or more years as this chap evidently did!

PS If the image makes you wonder about the manse wall maybe I should point out that the plaque is on its end so the photo has been rotated (hence the rather strange perspective effect) - Dibley may have its quirks but building houses by laying bricks on their ends isn't one of them!

Over the last few weeks I have had quite a few conversations with the demolition team next-door, and they have shared odd memories of what the street was like in the 1950's when they grew up here.  Yesterday one of them said, 'oh, we found some bits you might want' which turned out to be programmes from 'sermons' (as it happens those held by the Methodists who borrowed our, larger, building) in 1966, 1977 and 1986.  At one level these very grubby pamphlets, posted through my letterbox last night,  are utterly worthless, at another they are valuable historical documents.  They could so easily have been consigned to the gehenna (can I call a long-running bonfire that?!) at the far end of the site but someone spotted their value and rescued them.  That sounds like an extra mile walked to me.

This photo, taken a few weeks ago has suddenly gained significance.  It shows me with two of the oldest old girls of 1st Duston Girls' Brigade, to which I belonged from the ages of 12 to 18.

Today I received news that Mrs Nightingale (Eva) - centre - had died on Thursday last week.

She was a great leader, managing to balance fun, fairness and enough strictness to get us to do what she wanted!

I am still able to impress girls today with the fancy steps she taught us in skipping, can perform club-swinging routines worthy of the Royal Navy (!), can fall in a District in line or in column (should I ever need to!) and have abiding memories of her shaking a stick of rhubarb at me when we were at Camp in some sort of pretend-anger when we'd been teasing her.

I find myself wondering how many lives she touched with her gentle humour?  How many girls (women) can still hear the instructions " clubs into position... place" at the start of a routine.  How many people who hated PE, detested the GB requirement for physical activity actually came, albeit reluctantly, to enjoy her classes?

Today the rope is folded, the clubs are stilled, the parade ground is quiet and the rhubarb grows silently in the garden.  Eva, Mrs Nightingale, is gone from here to her rest.  May she rest in peace.

Demolition next door continues apace.  This morning the pulpit and dais came down - like so much matchwood.  It's slightly odd seeing a JCB where I used to stand to lead worship (not in the pulpit I hasten to add) causing me a wry smile.  From dust you came and to dust you will return...  so much for all those fine words eh?!

OK, for some reason the blog platform keeps eating this post!  Maybe it doesn't like my views.

This morning I am a much relieved minister - my fears that the BNP would take an East Midlands seat were not realised - but (if I did my quick D'Hondt sums correctly) only because we had one less seat than last time.  Using BBC data and rounded figures I reckon they'd have got the sixth seat had it still existed.  So rejoicing but not complacent.

And I'm a much distressed minister - wider fears that the BNP would get seats in Europe have been realised with two elections, one in my much loved North West of England, the other in Yorkshire.  There but for the grace of God go any of us.

So, muted rejoicing and empathic weeping.

The Hope not Hate campaign continue to be very vocal and find a lot of support among Christian groups.  Their latest petition is here (and if you don't want to keep getting their emails it's easy enough to unsubscribe afterwards).  It's not original, but it's true to say that all it needs for evil to triumph is for reasonable people to do nothing.