I’ve ended up back in Belfast to preach at my former colleague Paul’s Institution tomorrow.  There’s a tinge of Ted and Dougal here. This may be why the sermon is proving a bit elusive – Paul’s new parishioners will definitely not want to know if he ‘gives good Mass’.  With the wonders of modern technology, it was simpler to do what I do from here rather than go back to Perth for a day.

So as we waited for the plane to leave Birmingham last night, the announcement said that we would leave as soon as the plane had taken on SEVEN TONS of fuel.  Later on I was sitting on the floor in a quiet corner of a staircase in Belfast Airport because it was the only place I could find a plug for my laptop.  A kindly managerial person arrived and welcomed me to their electricity supply, ‘Use away at it,’ he said in best Belfast idiom.  ‘We make all our own electricity anyway.’

Why was I unable to leave Belfast Airport?  Because Alison and I were once again arriving in the same airport from different places and she was two hours after me.  Poppy, by the way, remains in the cappuchino belt of Bruntsfield and will return to Blogstead on Saturday.  Reports are that she is a bit more settled but still noisy – either high maintenance or just a spoilt cat.