Up at 5.30. Mild blustery morning, wind behind me on the way to Saxmundham. Laptop screen on the blink again, which I took to be a hint not to bring it with me, but it's working now, so I'll take it anyway.
Looking at the stats for this blog. Who is my reader in Belgium, or Alaska? Why does no-one leave a comment? Why does no-one access the blog from a Microsoft browser? Why did so many people view Saturday's blog?
Meditated on the train to Ipswich (there were 8 bikes on the train with me!) and then got a sausage butty and coffee on train to Liverpool Street (again, the guard's van was full of bikes, and I was th eonly person who'd apparently bothered to get a reservation - the guard couldn't care less, looked a bit puzzled when I offered him my ticket, as in "what's that?"). Got to St Martins just after 9.30. It is fun cycling in London, and there are so many bikes and we go so much quicker than all the cars and buses.
Lovely whatdyacallit (service? conference?) Just This Day / The Inward Turn. Lots of meditation and silence, some nice Mozart and three good talks. Then I met old friends, Fr Laurence, Liz Watson, Sue Spence, Kim Nataraja, none of whom I've seen for nearly five years. The east window is stunning, the whole church is stunning.
No lepers, poor, halt or lame, of course. Liz runs a meditation group inside Pentonville. Laurence said go to Bonnevaux, the WCCM's new HQ south of Poitiers - they could use some help re-building, he said. Be nice to ride down there and stay for a bit.
The East Window is wonderful. A sort of cosmic egg on a grid. I seemed to see everything in it - the big bang, space time and the distortion of space, Jesus on the cross from above, the egg at a slight angle to the universe, the illusion of 3 dimensions on a flat surface. Apparently the theme was Jacob's ladder, but I did not see that. I kept trying to photograph it, but all the camera could see was light (and it was a fairly dull day and the sun was already well south of the window). I wonder when the sun shines through the egg itself - Easter perhaps.
Went down to the crypt for rite of coffee and sandwiches, I avoided the wine and had orange juice, chatted to Liz and left about one for Chris Beetles gallery (Illustrators and cartoons) in Ryder Street, SW1 (between the Mall and Piccadilly. They let me in, which was a pleasant surprise, and then locked me in. An Arthur Rackham on the wall for £250,000. Most of the illustrations (all originals) were between £2,750 and £6,000 - a nice girl gave me a price list. A few for £500. Best deal were original Matt cartoons (they deal for him) at £250 a pop. People must be so unhappy in London - it's a money extraction machine - the "Party" shop on Muswell Hill - just pop in and get your canapes sorted, endless ridiculous flash cars, and everyone looking so beautiful. If you're just average, it must be a kind of torture. I rather enjoyed the gallery, spent an hour and a half looking at everything. Quiet a lot of soft porny bronze statues of very young teenage girls naked on swings etc
Then cycled up to the Trevors, wind behind me (very behind me), only rubbish bit was going up Highgate Hill - very steep and very long, but I didn't stop until I got to the top. Then over to Muswell Hill Broadway, popped in to Sainsbums for a bottle of Malbec and some Nanny State beer and 3 ginger tea and got to Charles at 3:40pm. Coffee, fag, bath, lovely. Hello Fresh for supper.
I cycled at least 16 miles today (Sweffling - Saxmundham, Liverpool Street to Muswell Hill via Trafalgar Square and Mayfair).
Adam and Charlotte turned up after we'd started and I got very shouty with Adam about politics. All quite good humoured but a very wide gulf.
Just before we all went to bed I had a brilliant idea for making a lot of money, but I DIDN'T WRITE IT DOWN and now cannot remember anything about it. And I was sober, so it must be Alzheimer's. Or it was a rubbish idea (I remember it was brilliant, but that I couldn't see how I could make it work).
Relatively early to sleep, no screens (Charles stayed up to watch the start of the first Test at the Gabba) and read for about 2 minutes. Good sleep. Woke up with a headache, again.
Looking at the stats for this blog. Who is my reader in Belgium, or Alaska? Why does no-one leave a comment? Why does no-one access the blog from a Microsoft browser? Why did so many people view Saturday's blog?
Meditated on the train to Ipswich (there were 8 bikes on the train with me!) and then got a sausage butty and coffee on train to Liverpool Street (again, the guard's van was full of bikes, and I was th eonly person who'd apparently bothered to get a reservation - the guard couldn't care less, looked a bit puzzled when I offered him my ticket, as in "what's that?"). Got to St Martins just after 9.30. It is fun cycling in London, and there are so many bikes and we go so much quicker than all the cars and buses.
Lovely whatdyacallit (service? conference?) Just This Day / The Inward Turn. Lots of meditation and silence, some nice Mozart and three good talks. Then I met old friends, Fr Laurence, Liz Watson, Sue Spence, Kim Nataraja, none of whom I've seen for nearly five years. The east window is stunning, the whole church is stunning.
No lepers, poor, halt or lame, of course. Liz runs a meditation group inside Pentonville. Laurence said go to Bonnevaux, the WCCM's new HQ south of Poitiers - they could use some help re-building, he said. Be nice to ride down there and stay for a bit.
The East Window is wonderful. A sort of cosmic egg on a grid. I seemed to see everything in it - the big bang, space time and the distortion of space, Jesus on the cross from above, the egg at a slight angle to the universe, the illusion of 3 dimensions on a flat surface. Apparently the theme was Jacob's ladder, but I did not see that. I kept trying to photograph it, but all the camera could see was light (and it was a fairly dull day and the sun was already well south of the window). I wonder when the sun shines through the egg itself - Easter perhaps.
Went down to the crypt for rite of coffee and sandwiches, I avoided the wine and had orange juice, chatted to Liz and left about one for Chris Beetles gallery (Illustrators and cartoons) in Ryder Street, SW1 (between the Mall and Piccadilly. They let me in, which was a pleasant surprise, and then locked me in. An Arthur Rackham on the wall for £250,000. Most of the illustrations (all originals) were between £2,750 and £6,000 - a nice girl gave me a price list. A few for £500. Best deal were original Matt cartoons (they deal for him) at £250 a pop. People must be so unhappy in London - it's a money extraction machine - the "Party" shop on Muswell Hill - just pop in and get your canapes sorted, endless ridiculous flash cars, and everyone looking so beautiful. If you're just average, it must be a kind of torture. I rather enjoyed the gallery, spent an hour and a half looking at everything. Quiet a lot of soft porny bronze statues of very young teenage girls naked on swings etc
Then cycled up to the Trevors, wind behind me (very behind me), only rubbish bit was going up Highgate Hill - very steep and very long, but I didn't stop until I got to the top. Then over to Muswell Hill Broadway, popped in to Sainsbums for a bottle of Malbec and some Nanny State beer and 3 ginger tea and got to Charles at 3:40pm. Coffee, fag, bath, lovely. Hello Fresh for supper.
I cycled at least 16 miles today (Sweffling - Saxmundham, Liverpool Street to Muswell Hill via Trafalgar Square and Mayfair).
Adam and Charlotte turned up after we'd started and I got very shouty with Adam about politics. All quite good humoured but a very wide gulf.
Just before we all went to bed I had a brilliant idea for making a lot of money, but I DIDN'T WRITE IT DOWN and now cannot remember anything about it. And I was sober, so it must be Alzheimer's. Or it was a rubbish idea (I remember it was brilliant, but that I couldn't see how I could make it work).
Relatively early to sleep, no screens (Charles stayed up to watch the start of the first Test at the Gabba) and read for about 2 minutes. Good sleep. Woke up with a headache, again.
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