Off to Canterbury this evening, to preach on Sunday morning. Off to the home of the Holy and Blessed Martyr St Thomas.
When Henry II came to ask forgiveness for the murder of Thomas Becket he came through the streets of Canterbury on his knees and then had himself whipped before the High Altar.
I’m not going to go quite that far, but I do have a PUBLIC CONFESSION to make. You see, I was going down on the train with the bike and a rucksack but now Sarah is coming. So it does seem silly if she drives along the motorway whilst I go in parallel in the train.
I have failed already.
And worse I’m going to enjoy it, because not only do I get to spend some time with Sarah in the car, but I am also able to take Saturday off and go cycling with all my old friends. 60 miles, Lycra clad, the road bike at last. And it doesn’t matter what kind of state I’m in when I finish. Mud sweat bit no tears.
Good Gospel to preach on this Sunday, by the way. Nicodemus slipping out to find Jesus in the night.