Covid 1

Prince Charming has just emerged from his turret after eleven days of either Omicron or BA.2, who knows anymore? He doesn't have hair long enough to get him down from the window, and the only succour from his princess in shining armour was an occasional tray at the door. He had to shield in the first Lockdown, so we are immensely thankful that pain and tiredness were as serious as it got.

Downstairs life went on, with everything pared back to the bare minimum. Which is lovely enough when the bare minimum still involves heat and light and food and water and quietness on tap. I was chatting to a girl in school today about the news and about where she found her hope. We both agreed that tea is often enough.

You could get annoyed, I suppose, that the best a son could do was your school water flask when a friend leaves you flowers. But then again, here we all are together and the best that we can do at any given moment is all there is, and there's such joy in knowing that you've been given the best that someone can do.

Praying that our Ukranian brothers and sisters will be blessed with the best that friends and families and kind strangers and generous hosts all over Europe can do x
 

Shadows

Oh dear. So, to clarify, I got to Scotland (where it was really very cold!) and got back, and ended up covering for our sixth form study supervisor for two weeks which annoyed my Head of Department, and war broke out in Europe? And Lent started.

I opened my Bible randomly this week because I was feeling so adrift. Joel 2 with its startlingly modern description of an army moving with devastation through a land. But also with its startlingly Lenten call to return. My boys have me signed up to the YouVersion Bible app that sends me a verse a day, and today it was from Joel 2 too. So, I'm going to sit in Joel 2 for a while longer, with fasting (from black tea) and weeping and mourning.

I've had John Donne's words in my head all these awful days. I've shared them before, and I hope he wouldn't mind if I borrow them again.

No Man Is an Island

No man is an island,

Entire of itself;

Every man is a piece of the continent, 

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less,

As well as if a promontory were:

As well as if a manor of thy friend's

Or of thine own were.

Any man's death diminishes me,

Because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;

It tolls for thee.

https://allpoetry.com/No-man-is-an-island