On the other hand, I suspect it might just have been Dave Walker casting a watchful eye over his domain.

Thanks to Ian and Smudgie for their compliments on my son in all his finery. He's now done with exams, done with school. We are empty nesters...at last! Well - maybe we'd better wait until results day in August before we put out the flags and balloons, but still... I never thought to see the day!

So, what's been going on in Miffyworld since last I blogged? Ms Miff has fitted in another trip to NY, has completed her second year at art college, and is currently leafleting round London. In the process of which she narrowly escaped having to dress up as a fish, (the pic I saw looked more like a deformed penguin), has handed a leaflet to Ian McKellen and learned that wombles are not meant to be gender-specific. Which I gather entailed some adaptation to a female costume thus rendering any future womble wearers of that particular ensemble...well...think Tinkywinky and you'll get the picture. (What about Madame Cholet, I ask myself? )

Mr Miff in the thick of his cycling season, phoned earlier from deepest, darkest Scotland, where he is about to climb evr'y mountain, whilst attempting not to run over stray haggi or scare any monsters that might be lurking around. He's newly back from a fortnight in France - training for and then taking part in the marathon 174km 'Marmotte,' cycle sportif. I'll sort out a lijnk to Youtube coverage another day. All this high altitude stuff has a strange effect on one's train of thought. He phoned me one day to say "I'm in a very beautiful place, and from where I am I've just seen a nun running across a field with outstretched arms." No, he was too far away to hear if she was singing "The Hills are Alive!"

And myself? This last month or so has been... to put it nicely...'Interesting.' We're no further with the written vocational musings, although there've been some pointers to a possible something for the future, which I hope can be fitted into the 'Seabird' framework. We'll see. In a way, it's quite exciting. Unfortunately I'm becoming increasingly unhappy with my home church setting. My frustration of knowing that a move isn't really possible combined with the sense that doors are closing every time I try to venture into areas where I feel I have potential, is really dragging me down. Hence I decided to step back a bit over the summer. I simply can't cope with large, potentially emotional (or irritating) gatherings or discussions. The doctor has mentioned the dreaded 'd' word, (No, not discernment - the other 'd' word). Whether it is or not remains to be seen. But we're really looking forward to our holiday at the beginning of August. At the same hotel where we had our honeymoon - 25 years ago. (We checked and it hasn't yet fallen down the cliff into the sea). Yes, we've hit silver!

One frisson of excitement in the midst of all this, a few weeks back, was me getting a totally unexpected invite to be interviewed on local radio one Sunday. If ever the timing and the choice of person (IMHO) was wrong, this was! I was utterly terrified (this is the person who was so frightened of speaking in public as a teenager that she was excused compulsory VIth form assembly duty), had no idea what I was going to say (and they helpfully didn't brief me beforehand) so...I accepted the invitation. Come the morning, I was almost speechless with fright, spent the interview with legs crossed due to too many coffees and no time to get to the loo, and...it went far far better than I'd ever expected. I rather enjoyed it. And when I listened to it later - I did vaguely sound as if I knew what I was talking about. Wonders will never cease. Or put another way - God Moves in Mysterious Ways. Though not half as much as I did when I finally got to the bathroom!

'Not so little M' in his first DJ - all set for the school prom last night. There's a repeat performance tonight as he's off to the GF's 'do.' For all you mums out there who despair at ever getting them out of the same holey T shirt and pair of ripped jeans; there is light at the end of the tunnel. My little boy has grown up! (Sniff!).

Don't worry Dave. I don't think I pose any serious competition! It's just a bout of Monday afternoon procrastination and steam letting-offing. For elucidation see my other blog.

Ms Miff arrived safely in New York to do her tourist college bit, and we expect her back later in the week before my birthday.

Churchwise - Much better than I'd thought. I was tickled to read in the visitors' book this morning - 'The heating is working again. Hallelujah!' Hallelujah indeed! Thought I gather it didn't do the organ much good; the latter having managed to accustom itself to the freezing temperatures we've all been suffering through during Lent.

Still it's fixed; that's the main thing. And long may it last. Just in time for Good Friday as well - rendering my rush to M and S's thermal undies department unecessary. Still, I have my complete black ensemble now. I only ever wear black from head to toe for choir and as I'm only an occasional singer, this lot should last me for years. I enjoyed (in as much as one can enjoy) Faure's Requiem -although as we returned our scores directly afterwards I do hope somebody though to remove the pencil markings before returning them to the library. If not, come next Easter, some poor person is going to be puzzling the theological significance of the instructions to do a 'post-natal clench!' at the high point of the Sanctus. (My interpretation of our conductor's directions to we more inexperienced sopranos to prevent our 'Hosannas' sounding more like umpteen balloons deflating than a pean of praise to the Almighty.) It works, as well.

And talking of balloons, at the last count, there were still eleven helium balloons left over from Easter morning, nestling up in the church rafters. Rather pretty, I thought.