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I’ve been continuing to think about the experience of taking our grand-daughter, Eve, to Rhyme Time at the Library in Strathaven at the beginning of last week. Alison and I were happy to be just another pair of grandparents watching Eve enjoying the experience and gaining in confidence as part of the group.

We sang ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ and ‘Baa, Baa, Black sheep’. And there was ‘Row, Row the boat’. Bookbug had an outing on the magic and unbelievably stretchy Lycra and the children all joined in a circle holding onto Rapunzle’s Scrunchy.

Just half an hour. And it’s easy to see the point of it. Eve sings the songs when she comes home. The children become part of a group and gain in confidence. We are part of it too so it becomes an all-age experience – and a very effective one. A sort of liturgy.

I thought about that connection while I was sitting in church last Sunday – an unexpected collision with Prayer Book Matins. Immediately transported, I was back in my 1950’s childhood at Rossorry Parish Church and beyond that I heard the echoes of my clergy ancestors in the low-church evangelical past of the Church of Ireland. I love the language – indeed I could probably conduct worship without the aid of the book.

But I’m not so different from Eve. I’m looking for some bonding and belonging, something that helps me to grow up a bit and gain in confidence. Today’s worship has to do that for people who don’t have five generations of belonging in Cranmer’s wonderful language. That’s why worship leading becomes ever more demanding for clergy and laity alike.

So it’s home tomorrow – let’s not trouble ourselves with the question they ask in Portadown, ‘When are you coming home again?’ I suspect that that is the discourse of a community hardened to emigration. It’s home tomorrow – rested and refreshed, thank you very much. The weather has been remarkably good, as it sometimes is in Donegal in the Autumn.

These pictures were all taken within a mile or two of Blogstead na Mara. The first is the sun on the incoming tide at Tramore Beach which faces out to the North Atlantic. Then Killyhoey Strand along which we walk to Dunfanaghy village. And the the sea cliffs at Horn Head jutting out towards Tory Island.

Meanwhile in Patsy Dan’s the Guinness has been creamy – the beaches have been as deserted as ever – conversation in the village becomes recreation as the visitors depart and they settle in for the long winter – the Kindle tells me that I have 96 more hours of reading before I finish Trollope’s Palliser novels. One could easily go native ….

I’m taking a break – a blog break as well – in Donegal. It seems the right thing to do to mark the end of the radiotherapy – some reading, a bit of snoozing and time to reflect rather than just keeping going.

I joined Alison for her regular day looking after Eve our grand-daughter in Strathaven. We had a good day, including a visit to Rhyme Time at the library with all the other child-minding grandparents! It was great. And it is of course the beginnings of liturgy. But that’s for another day.

I was in our Cathedral on Sunday – something which I always enjoy

I’ve gone back to writing a full script for the sermon. Partly discipline. Partly because there is economy of words and time because, however succinct you think you are without a script, you aren’t. But the question is the relationship between the script and the delivery. When read, it’s dead. So the challenge is to ‘stick to the script’ while not reading it. I don’t learn a script. I sort of embrace it as a whole and then deliver without reading it – hoping that that will produce spontaneity with economy

Well maybe – or maybe not

You may have been wondering what has been happening with the prostate cancer treatment.

Well I finished my 20 radiotherapy treatments yesterday. It’s a strange experience really – invisible mending for an invisible illness. As always the staff are incredibly kind – respectful of your vulnerability. You lie stretched out and listen to the sound the machine makes as it sends the beam in – sometimes close to sleep and sometimes thinking of nothing in particular and sometimes sending in a prayer to help it on its way.

I’ve been well – well enough to keep doing about 50% of what I usually do – and cycling every day because research in Dundee says that exercise counteracts the side effects and the tiredness in particular. We are going to take two weeks in Donegal in October and have some space to recalibrate the mind and heart.

Thanks to everyone for asking and for the prayers. We move on to the next stage of the journey.

I like services which have lots in them – particularly when you have to make the effort to make things which don’t actually belong together seem to be part of the same event. St Andrews, St Andrews was like that this morning – overwhelmingly focused on the early weeks of Trevor Hart’s ministry and energy simmering all over the place. So I turned up this morning for Harvest … and Dorian’s Confirmation … and they were having a preaching series on I Timothy as well. The only thing we didn’t do was to launch a ship.

The sermon was timed by a parishioner at 9 minutes. I didn’t dare to ask him whether that was the sole criterion of good preaching for him. But I had a script and, for once, stuck to it. You’ll want to know how I did it in the time – with mentions of Sudan and snakes in Hong Kong as well. Here it is

This is a great moment and I’m delighted to see it. Revd Pat Storey’s election as Bishop of Meath and Kildare changes things – particularly as it happens in the same week as the Church in Wales decided to admit women as bishops. It increases the pressure on the Church of England. But it also makes it much more likely that other churches, such as the Scottish Episcopal Church, will elect a woman bishop.

I’ve been thinking about my memories of Pat and of my contacts with her and with her husband Earl. She always came across to me as one of those straightforward, hard-working clergy – full of charm and with a real love of God and people. Away in the past, when Earl was Rector of Glenavy, he stirred the sleeping giant of sectarianism to the extent that he and Pat found their Rectory under attack. I was one of the people who turned up to offer solidarity and to sit with them a while. That night I found that Pat had an imperturbable courage in her as well.

May God bless her in this new ministry.

We had a Review Day for our Casting the Net initiative today. We made our structures leaner and smaller – so we balance that with a day on which we bring together our Diocesan Committees and people who are involved as Mission Action Planning facilitators and in many other ways.

You don’t get definite results from a day like this. The first thing you learn is that there is a group of people who really ‘have the vision’ of what it means to become a missional church. You get ideas and things to think about and much to hope for. I found it immensely encouraging.

Before anybody else got a chance to say anything, I said this in the context of the opening worship

This is the Academic Procession following the 600th Anniversary Service for St Andrews University. Next but one ahead of me is the new Catholic Archbishop of St Andrews and Edinburgh, Mgr Leo Cushley. It was good to meet him and I look forward to getting to know him better.

Archbishop Rowan Williams preached a remarkable sermon. I had accepted the invitation but didn’t have the necessary red, pink, green or white tickets. So I was able to demonstrate that all doors open when you turn up in a purple cassock!

I’ve been taking part in the Service at St Giles Cathedral to mark the 500th anniversary of the Battle of Flodden – 9th September, 1513. The Service was organised by the Standing Council of Scottish Chiefs.

The address was given by Alistair Moffat who recounted the tragic story of it all. The losses numbered 10000 dead including James IV himself and his brother, the Archbishop of St Andrews. He described going to the battlefield and feeling the atmosphere of the place – ‘tuning into the music of our sad history’

Scotland does this kind of thing well – the piper who played ‘Mist Covered Mountain’ and Isla St Clair who sang Flowers of the Forest.

For me it was a classic Scottish outing. For once, I forsook the Megabus and went by train – across the Forth Bridge and into Waverley – up the endless steps to St Giles – and then all the way back again.