Been to Aberdeen today where I was preaching at the church where I was previously pastor. As always, welcome, laughter, sharing of much experience, a good number of new faces though some of those I know best were on holiday. Caught up in the afternoon with others for lunch, then afternoon tea with two of our closest friends in Aberdeen, laced with conversation about mysticism, inter-faith dialogue, what Jesus meant by life abundant, Hans Kung, and much catching up on each of our families.
Left to come home around 6.00p.m. when the day started taking unexpected turns. First, 10 miles south of Aberdeen a sudden noise as if a jet was overtaking us – but it was a puncture and the road noise on the non slip surface made it sound as if the rear axle was about to come off. A dangerous part of fast road so we nursed the car into a narrow road entrance. Dressed in the Sunday clothes unpacked spare wheel, jack and wheel brace. Except said blessed wheel brace was a useless piece of cheap soft metal that slipped off the wheel nuts as soon as pressure was applied. So phoned the AA. The cavalry came – and with a two foot lever and a wheel brace the nuts came off – no idea how this could have been done with the equipment supplied by the car manufacturer.
By this time it’s 8 o’clock we are 140 miles from home, hungry but once again mobile. We stopped 15 miles further on at The Gang Faur and Fair Waur, an old fashioned, nae nonsense transport cafe which serves food as if calories were their speciality – which they are. Just after I ordered the filled roll I saw it. The baked rice pudding – with the dark nutmeg skin. Decided I’d see how I felt after my fried egg roll. Surprisingly I was still interested so I went back – filled roll and pudding, a balanced meal. The plateful was, how can I explain? You know how nouvelle cuisine is little portions arranged on a large plate; this was nae messin cuisine, large plate and large helping. I staggered to the table with the prize, and spent ten minutes proving that even if faith can’t move mountains – if it’s made of rice pudding, I can.
On the road home, listening to Classic FM, Elgar’s Love’s Greeting, written for his wife. Hearing this beautiful piano and violin, looking over the mearns to the hills, and then the background outline of the Perth hills, with a setting sun, pink coral laced clouds, against a sky as clear as blue crystal, I felt one of those surges of peace and spiritual at homeness – such as happens only after the renewal of rich friendships, the frustration of a puncture, the inner glow of rice pudding, and against the background of a sky that is an artist or photographer’s dream, – and all shared with Sheila ( who by the way had an equally challenging pudding – rhubarb crumble and custard – but I finished mine!)
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