The three deacons
Or should that be beacons? Signals of light bringing good news to a frightened dark nation. The one on the left in soft focus (caused by a finger-print on the lens - sorry) is Big Al, centre, and right are Jo and James, the dynamic duo, a real bargain at two for the price of one. In all 17 deacons were ordained in Guildford (deacon comes from the Greek for servant, in case you wanted to know). I don't know why they are told to dress up in those peculiar clothes; it really doesn't do anything for them. Personally I don't think it does anything for the credibility of the Church either. But it's true, it wasn't so long ago that I was dressed something like that. I just wish they'd change the rules soon. Sometimes being in a wheelchair has its advantages and yesterday I enjoyed them: parking right next to the Cathedral, and a prime position to see the ceremony. To be honest, I didn't find the building as impressive as some people. It's tall and big and uncluttered, but it just didn't do it for me, I'm afraid. Not like the hotch-potch of humanity with whom Jesus intended to replace the Temple building.
Well, it was a long day, and Jane who drove both ways was tired when we got back, but at least Federer and Roddick were kind enough to extend their epic struggle in the Finals so that we could watch a good chunk of it. It was appropriate that breaking the record was achieved at such a cost, but I did feel sorry for Andy Roddick who had given everything and come so close to winning. But the hard fact is there could only be one winner - and congratulations to Mr Federer, who did not give up.