Some years ago I was waiting at a pub in Budapest to meet a friend of mine. I was, as I suppose I am wont to do when sitting alone in a public place, eavesdropping on the conversation - in English – of a group at the table next to me. I couldn't quite follow why, but it seems they had ended up in Budapest by chance and not by design, and would have to spend the entire next day there when they had hoped to be somewhere else. “What will we do for a whole day?” said a woman wit

My sister Kathy was a fantastic cook. She was not a fancy cook – no pretentious things with French-sounding names could be found on her menu, no trendy vegetable artfully placed next to an escalope which is not much bigger than a nickel. (“Kale?!?,” I can almost hear her ask, almost see her furrowed brow, “Haven't we got a second cousin named Kale?”) And she always had a plethora of the most obscure things on hand – they could always be found in her untidy, overflowing cupboa

One of the enjoyable functions of Facebook is the memories section which shows what you posted on that day in past years. Since I traditionally haven't used Facebook much for anything except keeping up with family and friends far away and posting photos of places I want to remember, these snapshots into the past are a nice supplement to my ever-present journal. So I read this morning that eight years ago today - Easter Sunday 2012 - having finished services, I was heading to

Nearly two years ago my friend Sandra came to visit from Rome. Flying through Amsterdam, she picked up some of the famous Dutch tulip bulbs to plant in my garden. I am clearly not possessed of a green thumb, but I was more solicitous of those patches where the bulbs were planted than I was with the rest of the garden. Tulips are beautiful, of course, but these were particularly special because they have a connection to such a dear friend whom I don't see as often as I would l

It seems that each time there is a tragic crisis in the world, the inevitable question arises: "Where is God?" It is, of course, a fair enough question - one would like to think that the benevolent Creator has not just abandoned us - but all too often the answers given are so steeped in a kind of theological-speak that the search for the answer gets lost. And it is a search; those who purport to have all the answers to everything seem to forget that we're in the realm of myst

My next door neighbours are a young family with three – or maybe four – small children. (I've never been able to get an accurate headcount.) They haven't lived here very long, and – though we often exchange pleasantries – I have been saying for some time that I need to invite them over and have a proper chat. I've never got around to it and of course now I can't really have a proper chat because of the restrictions under which we are currently living. I must put that on the t

One of the interesting characteristics of praying together separately, as it were, is that it provides for a great deal of individuality. I've been asking some people how they are "using" the broadcasts we prepare, and no two answers have been the same. One person told me she prays very traditionally, singing/saying the psalm with the leader, in an area of her sitting room which is designated for prayer. Another person has told me she puts the prayer on whilst doing household