Voiceless

Sitting here writing this with two layers of woollies on and a scarf round my neck, while son lies in bed and sips fresh hot lemon and honey. Both of us seem to have succumbed to the cold weather, although in his case this is more to do with the fact that he refuses to wear a hat, scarf or gloves to go to school. My own folly was to go out into the cold with wet hair after swimming yesterday, even though I only crossed the road and then was indoors again straight away (in my favourite café, where I got chatting to a nice Welshman who apparently goes in there every day).

The worst of it is that I am preaching tomorrow afternoon and have almost no voice. The Grouch has offered to read out the sermon for me but it’s not quite the same. Though I say it as shouldn’t, I think I have put together a good sermon on Colossians 1 and John 1, based on the last chapter in Richard Bauckham’s book Bible and Ecology, which we are studying. And, if we can find the music, we will be singing the one and only hymn I have ever written, ‘Christ the Word’, which is published in a real hymn book and goes to the tune of ‘Lo! he comes’, which at least makes it Advent-y. The irony is, even if we do use it, I won’t be able to join in singing it!