I received a letter in French, not very good at French, I think it said that this account was inactive and would be deleted, so I thought I'd better make it active again and see whether it finds salvation or deletion. Then I might think about updating a bit more - or not. 

I've just discovered that I am listed as a URC blogger which comes as a bit of a surprise as I've been speechless for almost a year - and that was a rather poor entry.

Not sure why I've been speechless - perhaps a lack of confidence about talking in public about a new situation; certainly a feeling as time has gone on that there is nobody reading anyway; and a degree of creative block that has even led to sermons with three alliterative points!

It is a year since we arrived in Coventry, so perhaps it is time to begin some public reflections on the situation here, but really I want to try and write some poems and prayers - not least to try and get out of the lazy habit of borrowing from books and t'internet.

However the first new reflection is personal. Amongst our reasons for coming to Coventry was a wish to be a bit nearer to Chris' Mum and Dad in Leicester. Sadly within the year, that purpose has worked out. Her Mum died last week after a short illness and on Saturday we will share a Service of Thanksgiving for her life - always unconventional she has donated her body to medical science and so there will not be a conventional funeral. She has been a constant feature of half my life and no longer will my days by interspersed by the telephone ringing and "Hello Duck ..." and some cryptic message that really meant that Chris was to ring her back. No longer will I be hauled out of reading their paper by the line "That's right isn't it Craig?" wondering what on earth I'm supposed to be agreeing to. No longer will I be worn out by her sheer energy - and I only ever knew the slowed down version! No longer will plants be brought to life and cuttings "acquired" She could be funny, exasperating, thoughtful, opinionated, shy, indecisive, but if a practical thing needed doing she would get it done.

Her spirituality was the quiet sort, I know there has probably been a prayer said for each of us every night that we have been part of her life. She wasn't one for church - but sent her daughters to Chapel and I think was always a bit bemused to have a son-in-law who is a Minister not a Vicar. In the last week she prepared herself for death, said her goodbyes to each of us and slipped away in the early morning - at slug hunting time - with no fuss. She will be annoyed that we are going to make a fuss of her on Saturday, but as Den says, "She deserves it" and as Barbara always said, "There's no such word as can't"