Mixed experiences on my jaunt to Musselburgh to do my talk on Evangelical Spirituality on behalf of the Diocese of Edinburgh. From Paisley to Queen Street, 23 minutes. But the 3.30 and the 3.45 to Edinburgh were cancelled due to the failure the points system somewhere ( the announcement said where – but it was indecipherable, and in any case I didn’t need to know where they failed, just that that they had). So I waited with moderate displays of patience for the 4.00 p.m. "express" to Edinburgh – got on and it left on time. But once we were ensnared in the carriage, and five minutes out of Glasgow, it was announced that the train would divert to Dalmeny, and this would add a further 20-30 minutes to the journey.
There is a tangible sense of annoyed resignation ripples through the carriages when such morale deflating announcement is made. One passenger who wasn’t prepared to allow resignation to temper annoyance, was half way through ( at a conservative guess) his umpteenth can of Strongbow. He was already complaining to everyone that he wanted to go to Glasgow not Edinburgh – no he wasn’t on the wrong train, the train was going to the wrong place. He needed to go to Glasgow because he was going to Dublin, to see his sister, who wanted to give him some verbal because he was drunk…..
It was a long journey, and I struggled to read my book on Anselm. I suppose Scotrail, Strongbow and the Ontological argument are a reasonable challenge to those creative thinkers who can always make connections. The train confused our inebriated Robert Carlyle lookalike in shades so much he decided to use his compromised gifts of rhetoric getting us all onside to complain. Not helped when the train stopped, then began to travel back the way it came, in reverse. Maybe we were going back to Glasgow – but no, this was a train doing the equivalent of a three point turn – at 5.25 we got into Waverely.
From there I went down to Leith to pick up my car which Aileen had used for her holiday. Walking towards her house, dressed in my suit and carrying my brief case, a small elderly woman, stopped me and said,
‘Oh hello, is that you Dr Stewart.’
I said no – and she was clearly disappointed, but went on to tell me anyway, ‘Well’, she said, ‘it’s just that you prescribed the wrong pills for me’.
I explained I wasn’t Dr Stewart, she squinted into my face, smiled, and it dawned on her I was right, she apologised, and went on her way.
After that, drove to Musselburgh, did my talk, enjoyed the company of the folk and drove home to get in just before 11.00pm.
I am still trying to work out what theological reflections, spiritual lessons, human insights, arise from such a day…… Suggestions……
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