Wedding: celebration

The marriage itself was an incredibly rich celebration. Words are so important, so I loved their choice of lyrics in the songs they chose: both the songs we listened to and the songs we all sang together.

Adele came in to Van McCoy's 'Baby I'm Yours' played by Tom Hartley-Booth, with Amy, Josh and Joel Fiddy.

Baby, I'm yours
(baby, I'm yours)
And I'll be yours (yours)
until the stars fall from the sky.
Yours (yours) until the rivers all run dry
In other words, until I die.
Baby, I'm yours
(baby, I'm yours)
And I'll be yours (yours)
until the sun no longer shines,
Yours (yours) until the poets run out of rhyme.
In other words, until the end of time.
I'm gonna stay right here by your side.
Do my best to keep you satisfied
Nothing in the world could drive me away.
Everyday, you'll hear me say
"Baby, I'm yours"
(baby, I'm yours)
And I'll be yours (yours)
until two and two is three.
Yours (yours) until the mountains crumble to the sea
In other words, until eternity...

Drawings by Adele...?

...and drawings by Jonny. What a perfect Scripture to begin married life with.

These songs spoke of how their marriage is so rooted in Jesus: the Word who is Love. Hearts sang with voices.

like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither— whatever they do prospers. Psalm 1:3

Those English Literature studies have their uses...

Jenny, Adam and Josh: absolute singing legends...

Jenny and Adam: sister-in-law, soon-to-be-brother-in-law!


Josh, housemate who 'survived' Jonny for two years...and still loves him!


Mr and Mrs Pollard! Out they went...almost dancing...

Diariaising

Is this the right spelling? It doesn't look like it. It's my attempt at a single word for 'keeping a diary'.

The neat thing about this blog is that I can type, rather than write. My handwriting is appalling. A uniquely bad pencil grip puts incredible strain on my fingers, so that after only a few minutes they start to ache, cramp up, and experience shooting pains. Not good. I've tried to improve it in the past, but never got to the stage of a good handwriting style. When I teach handwriting to the children, I have the utmost sympathy for those who struggle. I know how they feel. That's one good thing about my writing, anyway.

The other neat thing is that NO ONE READS THIS. It's just like having a private diary, but more convenient than saving entries onto a file. If I did that, I'd have to remember where I filed them, open up the file each time, and so on. This is just so much easier. And I love the labelling system, too! So easy to find things I've written in the past.

Stones

I was down on the beach this evening, collecting tiny pebbles. I was looking for a certain size, but it didn't matter what colour. A certain shape, too – I wanted proper, well rounded beach pebbles. The kind that LOOK like pebbles.

The trouble was, there were too many of the other kind. Some with sharp edges, which haven't yet been properly rounded by the rough and tumble of the waves. I often feel like one of those.

Then there were the odd shapes – they didn't look right, didn't fit in. That's me as well, sometimes.

Then one caught my eye. It was a perfect heart shape of pale rock.

Damaged. A large chip had been taken out of one of its lobes, and there was an ugly crack running right across it. It looked extremely frail and fragile.

Yet, in my fingers, it was indeed rock hard. The crack was purely superficial.

Hearts – feelings - are wounded, but they do not truly break. We still live, even if we are in emotional pain.

This tiny chip of granite reminds me of that truth.

Discombobulated

Wow, what a word. It means confused, disconcerted, upset, frustrated. One of the local vicars used it in school assembly this morning – and one of the boys knew what it meant! (Which must surely mean that his parents have used it… I wonder why…)

It's a good word, though. It could describe my state of mind quite accurately.

I'm in danger of becoming discombobulated because…

…we won't be seeing some of our oldest and closest friends, after a four year gap, this summer.

….we can't decide on holiday plans.

…I have so much on my mind that I'm getting very little done.

At school I have to:

Organise our school delegation to the Primary Schools' Congress for the day after tomorrow. I and the School Council chairman need to decide which issues we will present, organise the most important points and brief the delegates. We have a twenty minute slot tomorrow to do all that.

Organise our next School Council meeting

Plan and organise the school garden – a huge bare area of soil at present

Run the cycling proficiency club well enough for the boys to pass their road tests

Rewrite the PSHE and Citizenship scheme of work

Review the PSHE and Citizenship policy

Make sure that Walk to School week – NEXT WEEK!!! – is promoted properly.

That's all without teaching, marking and preparation.

'Ware discombobulation!

Words falter and fall

Her words
Shoot out across the abyss between us
Arcing in friendliness.
I recoil, draw back, shrink away.
These rudiments of a delicate bridge
Tumble into the void
Plummeting to a messy heap below.
Too far to discern a meaning I do not want to read.

I turn away, guilty.