A day in the life of a parish priest

Wnat to hear what I got up to yesterday?

8.45am  Take car to garage to see if they can find out why it is not starting occasionally.

9am  Let man from Scottish Power into church to replace electric meter. Watched him balance his bottom on the cupboard sill with one leg in the cupboard and one out whilst trying to reach into the dark depths of the meter cupboard.

10am  Eucharist for the oldies and not-so-oldies. Pondered how many times these people have heard the readings for Thursday eucharists. For some it will be about 20 times. Considered changing the readings in future.

10.30am  Coffee and a blether with the congregation and a chance to find out what they are up to.

10.40am  Meeting with man who is cleaning out the church roof guttering and replacing tiles.

10.45am  Back to coffee and chat till job on the roof is done.

11am  Met with daughter of ED whose funeral I did on Tuesday. Received a box of books for our book stall (and rescued a couple for myself).

11.45am  Back to garage to find out that the diagnostic tests revealed nothing wrong with the car. Told to take it back to where I got it. Not easy when bought over the internet. Of course car started perfectly every time.

12noon  Home for lunch with Son #2 and work on Baptism book for Sunday. Check emails, return phone calls, etc.

2pm  Meeting with architect to have a look at plans for extension to Rectory.

3.20pm  Hair cut and coloured purple once more. Had to be done twice because the ghastly red didn’t cover.

6pm Straight to church for Pilates class only to find the heating hasn’t been working. Quick visit to boiler house and gazed in awe and wonder at the boiler, turned some dials, heard a whoomf but heating didn’t appear to come on. Bend into some pretty mean contortions at Pilates and floundered about a bit like a beached whale.

7pm Class over and back to boiler house. Gazed in awe and wonder again but at a loss to know what to do. Told Pilates teacher I’d look into it.

7.05pm  Photocopied 100 books for Baptism.

8pm Ate dinner with Son #2.

8.30pm  Did a wee bit of work on computer, catching up with emails, trying to find contract online for our organist, etc.

9pm  Sat down to watch some TV. Had difficulty getting up again because of previous Pilates.

10pm Fell asleep in front of TV.

A good day, I think.

Va Va Vroom Vroom

Well, dear readers, Clio finally arrived yesterday after much anticipation. She arrived with a very sheepish driver who had just broken the round silvery thing on the tyre by scraping it on the edge of the kerb outside my house. He took me for a test-ride to Halfords to buy a new set. That took some time because I couldn’t get the car to move. Let me tell you, the clutch in Clios is very, very high. So high I can’t put my heel on the ground. So that’s going to take a bit of getting used to. I didn’t exactly take off quickly when the lights changed. And I was overtaken twice!

However, apart from that… and the fact that the lights switch is elsewhere and you work the radio from a column next to the steering wheel (how cool!) and I couldn’t read the speedometer (fixed that now by lowering the wheel). Oh its full of gadgets which you all probably take for granted but if you’ve only ever driven an N Reg car with no power steering it is like the best car in the world to me. Talking of power steering – how great is that for going round corners?!

I asked the man where the lever was for tilting the driver’s seat forward so I could put my bag on the back seat and guess what?  No lever. No need cos it has 5 doors. Another joy!

All in all it was a bit like Easter day yesterday. And apart from my sore knee (clutch leg) this morning I can’t wait to get out in her again. Oh, oh, oh I nearly forgot to tell you… you lock it from the key!  How handy is that?

And the previous owners were The Holy Family Sisters. I am sensing very holy vibes and they keep a car very clean, I can tell you. Va va vroom vroom.

Va Va Voom

Sitting thinking about my poor wee car and how I really cannot function without it, I decided to give a call to Autosave who sell cheap cars to clergy just to see what was the cheapest car they had on offer. Spoke to a really nice man – yes, my son pointed out that all car salesmen sound really nice – who eventually found me a little car which I could afford, if I give up all other treats. So I bought it. Over the phone without seeing the car. And before you say anything, apparantly I am not alone – lots of clergy do this. Autosave understand our poverty and make no judgments.

So my new car is a Renault Clio with 5 doors so my old ladies won’t have to scramble to get in and out when I give them lifts. And more to the point, it has power steering which will be a first for me. (Not purple, I’m afraid, but I wasn’t in a position to demand such niceties.) But the selling factor for me was that it belonged to a nun. How cool is that?  It will be delivered on Tuesday next week.

Then I tried to take my old car to get its MOT and the clunking was so bad that I had to hand my head in shame as I tried to get out of my drive. But just as I was on to the road it cut out and wouldnt start until I prayed and rattled my rosary at it. Finally got it back into the drive and phoned the AA.

Another awfully nice man arrived and put the exhaust back in its clips and the noise stopped and the handbrake works once more. And it sailed through its MOT. So its all rather embarrassing really. I bought a new car when I didn’t really have to. But I am delighted all the same.

So if anyone would like to purchase an old Vauxhall Corsa, N Reg, 75,000 miles, 3 door hatchback, 2 lady owners, with a full MOT then its yours for £600.

Car trouble

Last year at our General Synod I gave a lift to four clergypersons in my little car. Three of those clergypersons were clergymen and two of them were larger than your average clergyman. (This is not the case now for one of them!)  Those three squeezed in to the back of my little Corsa with much squealing and groaning (from said clergymen, not the car). However as my little car revved its way up Lothian Road, which is a gentle incline if you don’t know it, I thought I heard an alarming sound from the nether regions of said little car. A groan, if ever I heard one. A groan and a clunk.

Ever since then my little car has performed reasonably well unless I have two fat ladies in the back. (Sorry little flock!) I have never risked three in the back again but two can produce the alarming clunks as we go over speed bumps. However, you try telling little flock that you can’t give them a lift back from the Vestry meeting and you’re a braver soul than I.

Yesterday on my way home from interring some ashes my little car didn’t seem to care much for the cobbles on Brighton Place. Once I reached the end of said cobbles the clunk had become a continuous hammering noise and I slunk home sounding like a hammer drill on speed.  Foolishly – it must be a girl-thing – I thought that maybe a rest overnight might have made the nasty sound go away but no such luck. This morning I switched on the engine and the clunking hammering sound started straight away. So I switched it off and abandoned my shopping trip. (Sorry wedding couple – it will be a frugal lunch!)

So we are now booked in for the MOT tomorrow and I suspect that we are going to fail big time. Now if I could just win the Lottery between now and then it would be very handy.

Holiday snapshot

Back in the saddle after a restful fortnight doing not very much (except a Confirmation last night – see previous blog).

My plan had been to get away for a few days but NERF (my little old car) decided otherwise. She had been leaking oil for some time and it did seem to be getting worse so I thought I’d better pop in to the garage while I was off just to get things checked out.

Spare a thought for us poor clergy who move around from time to time and have to leave reliable and trustworthy garages who have just got used to nursing our old bangers which is all we can afford. (unless you are Fr Kirstin of course!) So I went to a garage recommended by one of my little flock and after much sucking in of air between teeth and mutterings of “when did you last have this car serviced?” I was informed that my sump had gone. And I didn’t even know I had a sump. And a gasket was dodgy too. Whatever that is. But it was all very serious and required £240 worth of tlc. Either that or my engine would be next. So, no choice really.

What did I do then while I was stuck at home?

For the first week I sat out in my lovely garden soaking up the rays and reading a couple of books:
Shroud for the Archbishop by Peter Tremayne (A Sr Fidelma mystery) and
The Chalice by Phil Rickman (a Glastonbury ghost story)
I do like a good whodunnit while on holiday. And I was able to catch the most exciting week on the Archers now that Ed is back from his soujourn into homeless hell. Poor soul.

For a few days I resembled a rather pink lobster but that seems to have calmed down a bit now after a considerable amound of exfoliating and moisturising. It was hot and most unlike any holiday I have ever had in Scotland before. Normally it rains constantly as soon as I even mention the word ‘holiday’. Oh, and I love my oscillating fan. Just what a woman of a certain age needs when she has started getting hot flushes at the hottest time of the year. I have been told I have not to think of them as hot flushes but as my inner child playing with matches. All I can say is heaven help you all if that is the case.

For my second week I did some knitting of prayer shawls and watched some movies. (That was when it did indeed rain.) I did a little light housework, put up a clothes line outside and visited the chiropodist and the dentist. How sad.

I was almost bored to tears and am greatly relieved to be back in the saddle doing what I love most. Speaking of which, I did attend two churches for Sunday worship but my reflections on those will have to wait. But they are worth waiting for, believe me!

Dual control freak

Round the block a couple of times this morning with Son #2 who is learning to drive. Not nice not being in control. He did very well considering he is used to power steering and my old jalope still has indicators that flap out the sides. As the parked car loomed towards us he learned to turn, turn, turn.

I may go grey if this continues. What am I talking about? I am purple! I shall never go grey!

Car trouble

I was in Tesco’s car park the other day trying to park in a small space. In and out I went just trying to get myself equidistant between the two cars badly parked on either side. This is not easy when you don’t have power steering but I was determined to be able to get my door open without knocking off the wing mirror of the car on my right whilst still allowing space for the driver of the car on my left to get in to his car. See! That’s the kind of priest I am – always thinking of others. In and out, in and out… you get the message.

Finally I managed to get precisely where I wanted and jumped out with a small amount of pride. Then a man shouted at me. He’d been sitting in his car watching me going in and out and I think had come to the conclusion that I was the worst woman driver he’d ever seen. Anyway he informed me that one of my brake lights wasn’t working, which was pretty kind of him really.

Now, I know you can go to a car shop and buy these bulbs and fit them yourself, but I like to keep the local wee garage in business so I hot-footed it to the wee man down the lane. “Do you have brake lights?” I said, “And could you fit one for me please?” “No problem,” he said.

As I moved the car into the small place he indicated he said to me that my exhaust sounded dodgy and he’d put it up on the ramp to check it. Turns out that it had rusted away in two places and was about to fall off. That will be £70 please. So, this must be the most expensive brake light ever. And why did it happen just before Christmass when I need every penny for stocks of Croft Original?

Murphy’s Law

I took my car through the car wash yesterday. First time since I moved back to Edinburgh and long overdue. Especially as I live opposite a gentleman who polishes his gorgeous Jag almost every day. I even treated it to a wax and blow-dry. Now I can hold my head up in the community, I thought.

Ha! Last night as I sat amidst the smell of lilies watching a little TV (well, the Manchester Passion actually) there was a thwack at the window. I looked out to see four youths running like hell in the opposite direction. On closer inspection there appeared to be copious quantities of egg and shell running down my front window. So I had to get the mop and bucket out to clean it off before it became like glue and started to pong more than the lilies.

Of course what I didn’t do was check out the car sitting in the drive. This morning I noticed that it too has suffered from the japes of those hilarious youngsters. So now I am going to have to go back to the car wash and start all over again. Bah.

Car crash

A couple of weeks ago a woman reversed into my car when I was parking in Tesco’s car park. She reversed out of her space without looking behind her and caught my front nearside bumper and left a nice dent as well. She then jumped out of her car and apologised saying , “Sorry, it was my fault! I didnt look.” All very well. I was even impressed that she had her insurance details with her and gave them to me immediately.

Since then I have been to the insurance company’s named garage and had an estimate, but now I hear she has decided to deny it was her fault. How can people do that? I can’t believe it.

Woke up with a streaming cold and not feeling too hot and found a letter from my insurance company with a claim form and it seems that I have to claim and lose my no claims bonus. Yeh right! So I phoned the AA to complain and ask why I can’t claim against her insurance. I got the most unhelpful man – by the name of Andre I think – who just didnt seem to care, or know what he was talking about. He said there was nothing I could do about it and if I want it fixed then I have to claim it on mine and then maybe get it back. Not good enough. And I have a high excess. Bah!

Phoned Norwich Union who are the actual insurers and the woman there was so helpful. She is going to look into it and phone me back. But it looks like I do have to claim and then hope that the insurance company can get it back after and restore my no claims bonus. But that’s a big ‘if’.
Oh I am so cross.