Service at our home

The French service is at our home this morning, followed by a barbecue.

Pat has cleaned the house mercilessly.

My notes are ready for preaching though I agonised and fretted over what to preach on.

The accompanist is primed to play our little piano which has one of those short 5-octave keyboards so detested by pianists everywhere.

We have approximately 30 chairs, having ransacked the Griffins' folding chairs from their garage yesterday. I can't imagine we'll be 30 people today. Not in August.

I am just about to knock the order of service into final shape.

We've all prayed earnestly.

I've contacted people by email and by phone, though I have this dread of having left some folk out.

We've explained to the neighbour who lives behind us. Three of our next-door neighbours seem to be on holiday.

Nevertheless, I am convinced that I've forgotten something.

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