A First with a Difference

I did something for the first time this week.  But before I tell you about that, let me tease you with a question: why is a diary like a dictionary?  Apart from the fact that one word is topped and tailed by bits of the other, not a lot, you might think.  I will explain.

In the use of both, it can be claimed, you have to know the answer - or at least part of it - before you ask the question.  If you look in the dictionary to see how to spell a word, you have to know at least the first couple of letters. It's no good looking for 'photography' under 'F', for example.  So, if you use your diary to remind you to do something, you have to enter that fact in the diary, for the right day ... and then you have to look at the diary at the time.

Another facet of the same similarity is this.  If you're sure you have spelled the word correctly, you don't consider looking in the dictionary; you only do that if you're in doubt.  So, too, if you know your day is free, you don't bother to look in the diary.  Better, however, is to get into the habit of looking at the diary every morning, or at the start of each week, to enable you to prepare for whatever you're committed to.

And so to that 'first'.  As the church service progressed on Sunday morning we came to the point when someone goes to the front to read from the Bible. On this occasion, however, no one did.  I said to the friend sitting next to me, "Someone's dropped a clanger.  I don't think it's me."  As I reflected on this in the succeeding minutes, I realised that I hadn't checked my diary for some days ... it could be me!  And when I checked the rota immediately the service was ended, it proved to be so.  To quote a well-worn expression, "That's never happened to me before!"

Aside from that bad beginning, it's been a good week.  On Sunday, I learned that the friend I have often described as a 'quasi-daughter' had presented her parents with their second granddaughter - so unexpectedly early that no name had been finalised for the little darling! - but 'mother and child are doing well' (as the news bulletins proclaim).

The next day, I acted as chauffeur to a young lady from the church who needed to get to the airport.  In an hour or so's close confinement in the car, we quickly graduated from acquaintances to friends.  I hope she has a good break in the sun.

That apart, most of my week has been once more devoted to family history. As I struggle to meet my latest target, it seems to retreat before me, proving once again the eternal truth of this hobby, "It's never-ending; as soon as you turn one 'unknown' into a 'known', two more 'unknowns' appear!"