Last of the summer …

I thought I should offer you a couple of things just to mark the moment at which I plunge back into doing whatever it is that bishops do.

I’m deep in the Barchester Chronicles on my Kindle at present – it makes me a regular visitor to Plumstead Episcopi. I’ve always wanted to maintain the fiction that Blogstead Episcopi is a place not located in time or space – and this charming envelope from the hospital in Saumur which treated my pied gonfle bears witness to that. The address is approximately correct. But it also succeeds in honouring my Irish Passport and the Scottish Independence debate along the way.

Next is a picture of Tory Island which I visited last week – it lies about eight miles off the coast of Donegal across the open North Atlantic. I described the experience of getting there on the ferry as being akin to being strapped to a rubber duck in the bath.

And finally an example of the work of the school of painters on Tory Island. This was developed by English society portrait painter Derek Hill who was a regular visitor to Tory. The paintings are expensive!

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