Through a glass darkly

Shock ! Horror ! Retired vicar [b]logs on

As we move through the second week of the UK lock-down in response to the COVAID-19 virus, the world is moving into uncharted waters. We don’t know know what will happen next. We don’t know whether the awful scenes broadcast in recent days from Italy and Spain will be repeated here in the UK. Blustering Boris rehearses his Churchill impressions day by day on the telly, but he is not a man who inspires trust. I noticed a Guardian journalist yesterday looked nostalgically back to the days of John Major and Gordon Brown. Or even the days of Theresa May !

Here in Scotland shops and churches, pubs and gyms are all closed. There are very few people out on the streets. Even Arthur’s Seat, the volcanic plug which I can usually see from our windows on the south side of Edinburgh, has retreated behind a great mist. I walked round the hill earlier today, making a wide berth round other walkers, and reacting badly to joggers with plugs in both ears invading my personal space.

In this uncomfortable situation, I am grateful for a comfortable house and an attractive garden; for a loving wife; for Sainsbury’s delivery service bringing us food to eat [we seem to be old enough to qualify for preferential treatment]; and for enough books to read for the next several months. A blog for me is uncharted territory too. If anyone is reading this [aka Sid and Doris Bonkers as Private Eye used to say of the Neasden United supporters], then the likely threads will be a lament for our sadly diminished European links, some reflections on stuff that I am reading, usually history and travel, and some theology, and perhaps a few mordant comments on the current political scene. The little writing that I have done in the past has either been letters to family and friends or assembling church magazines and newsletters. I guess that what I write here will fall somewhere between the two. And so, as Doris Day used to sing many decades ago, Que sera, sera …