On the Brink

I expect you've noticed how certain dates and anniversaries are ingrained in your memory.  I remember, for example, the date on which my erstwhile girlfriend relinquished the shop that she and her husband had been running before his death.  I had a great uncle, whose birthday heralded a month to go until Boxing Day, and I know that when my dad's birthday came around yesterday it's almost back-to-school time.

So, now I've left school <pause for applause> I'm reminded of other things, such as a new term of home-group meetings at the church.  This year this calendar-mark carries a greater responsibility for me, since I shall be leading six of the studies between now and Christmas and my aim is to have them all prepared in advance, so there are no last minute panics.  That is fairly well on target, I'm pleased to report.

What else has been going on this week, then?  The bank holiday was spent as usual with my cousin.  The highlight of this one was the freedom to spend several hours ploughing through her box of family archives, making lots of notes with which to enrich the family history.  Every family acquires these, of course.  First that come to mind are the birth, marriage and death certificates, whether those issued at the time of the event, or copies obtained later for a variety of administrative requirements. Then there are the deeds and agreements that accumulate as a result of all manner of situations that involve legal arrangements and dealings with strangers ... like, for instance the purchase of a house.  Legal affairs inevitably bring letters from solicitors, and at the end of the day there is always a long invoice, in which the solicitor details exactly what he has done, down to the very last letter of that sinister closing phrase, "and to accounting to you for the same ..." followed by an unacceptably large total!

To most people these are just the nitty gritty of everyday life, or else the legal dross that is left after some great upheaval in life that now needs to be overcome or lived with, but to someone like me they are like gold dust, every last detail to be savoured, examined and tossed this way and that to see how it fits into the glorious picture that we build ... a picture that will never be completed because, even after a death, family life goes on.

I came home from my trip away to other signs of life going on.  My diary showed me one end of a chain of reminders, telling me to send an e-mail to someone giving her warning of something I shall need in a few weeks' time, so that she can fit its preparation into a busy schedule.  It's now in her diary instead.  A letter waiting on my doormat for my return told me that my flat is soon to be inspected to make sure I'm looking after it - echoes there of last week's post!

It seems incongruous that, in the midst of this fine and sunny weather, the 2018 FA Cup campaign is already into its third weekend of fixtures.  This afternoon, after scrutinising the list, I was able to fulfil an ambition of several years' standing.  Occasionally, one come across two churches in one churchyard;  I know of only one place - no doubt there are more - where two football clubs playing in the national pyramid have completely separate and independent grounds next to each other.  Today I visited Bedford Town, not to be confused with neighbouring Bedford FC, who play two steps lower down.

The visitors were a team I have seen in this area before, when they played a pre-season friendly match at Hitchin a few years ago.  Known as the 'Trawlerboys', Lowestoft Town brought with them a great footballing history, stretching back well over 100 years.  Their latest move was relegation from the National League North to play one level above today's opponents in the premier division of the Ryman League.  They scored - or rather were gifted an own goal - in the 27th minute, and matched this by scoring another in the second half.  Although the home side piled everything into their opponents' half in the last half-hour, the match was destined not to provide even one more goal, much less the three they would need for a home win, and the Suffolk team went home with a ticket into the draw for the next round.  Who knows where that will take them?

And who knows what I shall be writing about here next weekend?  We'll all have to wait and see.