Like a Fish to Water?

It actually stopped raining for a couple of days towards the end of the week. Only the days; our nights were still filled with the gentle pitter patter of clouds leaking and refilling our puddles. But the days were fine enough at least for us to sit in not too muddy patches of grass and enjoy the occasional barbecue or other external meal.

Little Fish decided to help with the washing up.
It started well. But then
Where's the washing up bowl, Little Fish?
Oh.

C and I decided it was something to do with that dress. Here's what happened on its first outing. I don't think it's made it through a full day since. The dress just attracts water.


We decided to come home a day early, missing the evening celebration on the Saturday and instead left after the family celebration. Which was full of a children's choir, many children's workers, and these fine Masai Warriors, who sang some praise songs whilst leaping straight up and down as if on invisible pogo sticks. Very, very cool, and very freeing somehow - all 4,500 people in the tent were dancing with them.
A great way to finish the week.

C and I took the tents down in the rain. This was less fun. We dripped. The canvas filled with pools of water as we attempted to fold it. The bag filled with water as it sat open waiting for the sodden canvas. The poles sent rivers of water down our arms as we folded them, the tentpegs brought small seas of mud with them as we pulled them out of the ground. The groundsheets contained slugs and sludge.

We were wet.
Very wet.

Thankfully, the girls had been at Our Place and beautifully sheltered throughout this process. So when we arrived at the celebration, it was with two clean and dry grinning girls and two wet, soggy, muddy lumps of adulthood. We must have looked pretty pathetic - they gave us vouchers for free hot drinks before the celebration started. Score!

A very wet drive home, a soggy steaming van full of smelly things (and that was just us; the girls and washing etc were even worse), and now 24 hours later I am about halfway through the laundry mountain. The bus is nearly empty, the tent is drying nicely thanks to Mum and Dad, and I should have some time to process some of the more serious aspects of the conference shortly.

On a slightly more serious note, Hazel has posted an interesting response to GAFCON. It's the blog entry titled "These and other affairs". I'm still not sure what my own response to GAFCON is; I'm still not sure what the response of our church will be, and not entirely sure whether my own response will be in line with my church or not. Or whether that matters. Or not. For anyone else following the GAFCON/Lambeth/general Anglican renewal/revival/review/return/revision/anything else beginning with r or otherwise; I'd welcome thoughts and comments. And I am sure Martin and Hazel would too.

Mog's music has run out; I need to change it and drug her, move some laundry around the house and maybe think about having something for tea. We brought eggs back from New Wine, Mum has delivered more of them too; I feel an omelette coming on.
Tia