Looking Forward and Looking Back

Holy Week has always felt a bit strange.  There's a extra Sunday squashed in before Saturday and after a Thursday that's more like a combination of Friday and Saturday.  In my courier days, Maundy Thursday was the day my boss dreaded.  With many of the drivers looking forward to a long weekend, either not working at all or at least wanting to slope off during the afternoon, he faced customers who were anxious to squeeze five days' activity into four, and get things delivered before the day was done.  Those, like me, who were willing to, could guarantee a full and rewarding day.  In my last two years, though, I declared it a non-working week, well in advance. We all knew where we stood and I could take a full part in the church activities.

So what of it this year?  What my father would have called 'the forepart of the week' saw the tail end of last weekend's comparative heatwave.  After spending most of Monday at the computer screen either dealing with my investments at the start of the new tax year, or working on family history (as usual, many might say), by Tuesday morning the sunshine had won, and I set out for a walk.

It was a walk with a difference for, as I emerged from the footpath onto the road by the bus stop, a no.98 came along.  With one hand I waved for him to stop while the other fished in my pocket for my wallet and the bus pass that was inside.  A moment later I was on my way to the next town, wondering what to do next.  I looked at the timetable as I alighted, walked up the main street in the warm sunshine ... and back again.  After a brief word with someone waiting for the next bus to Letchworth, I crossed the road and waited a far shorter time for one going in the opposite direction, further away from home.

I soon arrived at Royston, where I used to live and work when I first moved to this area.  I walked along some roads I hadn't trod for over fifteen years, reliving old memories and noting changes.  One such change was a former pub that was now a luxury private residence, called a cottage and taking the pub's name.  As I passed it, I recalled walking home from work one day and seeing the then landlord planting what is now a thriving laurel hedge around the edge of his forecourt.  I wonder if he is now the resident of White Bear Cottage.  Taking a train and a brisk walk instead of another sequence of buses, I was home by lunchtime and able once more to pick up the threads of life cast aside for the fresh air.

In some ways Easter - and especially a late Easter - marks the end of the 'busy' part of the year, when the leisurely game of cricket takes over from the furious activity of football, and thoughts turn to holidays and sunshine.  I live in the hope that, one day, I might be able to train myself to enjoy such things.  After an active life, it can be hard to relax fully into retirement, and I tend to be the sort of person who always has a list of things (perhaps little ones, admittedly,) that need to be done ... and there are always the shelves full of books that, I begin to admit, might never be read.

Once the Easter celebrations are over, I remind myself, I shall have to direct some thought to planning how I shall spend my week in north Wales, based in that 'room' that I booked the other week.  Before then, however, will come my first foray into the world of children's seasonal entertainment this afternoon, as I join the team running an 'Easter Eggstravaganza' at one of the local primary schools.  I have to say it's something that I'm looking forward to, albeit with a little trepidation, although I shall be in the company of many good friends who've been doing it for many years.

Our neighbouring parish is presently without a priest and, sadly, their daughter church where we ring the bells had no service last week, and none is planned for tomorrow, Easter Day.  We decided to ring for Easter morning anyway, though, and they do have a service this evening, so we will ring for that as well.  Our team took part in the annual striking competition the other Saturday and, having come second out of five, we shall go forward once more to the finals in September.

"Summer's come ... "  I'm wondering where the "birdies is?"!