I used to find, when running marathons, that 20 miles was the low point. All hope seemed to drain out. Yesterday was my Lenten low. A long journey by bus to Marlborough from Salisbury. Then a hugely delayed train trip back meant I got home tired and fed up.
Marlborough itself – ironically for a lecture on hope – was fine. Warm and encouraging.
Today looks better. I’m on the train to Salisbury. I shall certainly use this train more once Lent is over. Cunningly I left the beloved Pashley in the office last night. So now I have the prospect of a 22 mile spin home in light sunshine this evening. Hooray.
So I am through the Lenten wall. Does Lent end on Maundy Thursday or Easter Day?
1800 miles past.
There is a shimmering purple fritillary blooming in the garden.