A quiet Sunday?

Wake at seven after a disturbed night, Sarah's house is near the corner of the main York road and North Bar Without and last night the traffic noise continued until three. I much prefer the quiet of Tickton, but there again I am a pensioner and Sarah isn't. Anyway, I am up at seven to make a full English for Alice before she sets out to London and I just have time to spin Norman round Seven Corners before attending nine o'clock mass at Saint John's. Father Roy, who I really like, gave the sermon on what it means to be an apostle, his interpretation is the existential choice faced by all Christians to act in the faith now. His sermons are always powerful and thought provoking, although I couldn't entirely go along with his view that we seem to be living through the end of days. Moral and ethical social decline can't really be argued with but apocalyptic signs I am less sure about. My Buddhist insight meditation reveals that Heaven or Nirvana is the appreciation of the "living moment" as it continuously unfolds. The mind of God continuously manifesting throughout the universe and we an infinitesimal part of that mind, and if we are lucky, or granted grace, able to resonate with it for a little while. I don't talk to anyone else about this, because it is not something I wish to discuss or argue about. Religious feeling is arational, the logical mind too small and feeble to encompass anything so vast. The sung Mass with its Latin chorus for the Kyrie, Gloria and Agnus Dei, always move me because of their beauty. After Mass I collect Leslie and we have our coffee and a long chat in Caffe Nero, because I didn't see him last week. After I drop him off, I drive home and sit in the garden enjoying a rare sunny day whilst I read my book, when I get a text from Sam. She needs my help with her garden as she has some people coming to look at the house later in the afternoon. I have to make sure she has OK'd this with my son, Andrew, as they are in the middle of a divorce, but am otherwise glad to help. In the event I end up pruning bushes for five hours, that haven't been touched since last year. I finish at six, the people have been, but they haven't even got their house on the market yet. There is still another full days work left to do when I leave, and weather permitting I will get it done this week. Andrew finds it too painful to go back to do it, so perhaps we could swap and he could do the house in Cherry for me. Somehow I have ended up with three gardens to look after, which I don't really mind if the weather is nice. When I get home I make some dumplings and pop them in the slow cooker with my beef casserole and then sit in the last of the evening sun in my garden and drink one of the bottles of Corona beer that Sam gave me by way of a thank you. I take my stew and dumplings outside to eat and wash it down with another Corona. A hearty dinner was just what the doctor ordered after working in the sun all afternoon. After dinner I sit in the Garden Room to read my book, outside my resident blackbird is having a nice cool bath in the birdbath that I just filled up with fresh water. I don't even get through a chapter before my eyes refuse to focus, so I go to bed for nine O'clock. Just as I am dropping off I get a text from Sarah to say thank you. I text back to say I enjoy seeing my grandchildren and then fall asleep.