Blogstead regained

Not much sign of the ‘Culte Carla’ in France. Surprisingly, we found ourselves surrounded by the Culte Protestant and small villages each with its large Eglise Evangelique.

But it was time to finish digesting Lambeth and go home. English Diocesan Bishops are giving their summaries of how it was. You can read them on Thinking Anglicans. Our clergy are meeting next week to hear what I thought about it. So I’ll have to do some thinking.

We had an extremely rough trip home on the Zeebrugge-Rosyth ferry – Force 9 and china-crashing rough. It was a long night in the Scheheradze Karaoke Bar. As Liaison Bishop for the Mission to Seafarers in Scotland, I felt it was an important opportunity in ministry to contribute ‘Eternal Father, strong to save.’ I was just swinging into ‘Wide, wide as the Ocean’ with actions when I was unceremoniously hustled off the stage with cries of ‘A la Manche!’

And so back to the rustic simplicities of Blogstead.   TS Eliot echoes in the mind: ‘And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/and know the place for the first time.’  The new neighbours have moved in and will begin the ‘Getting to know you’ programme shortly. +Bruce is watching his lettuces grow. All is calm. Indeed, Blogstead in such moments seems to be located in neither time nor space. More, as the French might say, une idee … une saveur douce, piquante et un peu exotique.