I automatically put my shorts on this morning, which was the worst decision I’ve made in my life, as I was spending the day in Buxton, which is always at least five degrees colder than Sheffield. The error of my ways started to sink in halfway through the bus journey. After disembarking, a guy gave me a sympathetic gaze as I walked through the centre, but he didn’t know how they make them up north; his pity was wasted on me.
Spent the day catching up with Matt, following our usual format of touring coffee shops, and conversations which flit from film reviews to the history of the church and its multiple offences against humankind. I think we’re both tired of institutionalised church, but love the body of Christ. I was also amazed at the amount of water that could pass through my body within half an hour, as I’m sure the public toilet was.
Then had all the barnacles shaken off my skin heading back, on the bumpiest bus ride in Europe. I had to get off early and walk past the trees for therapy. Then went to the Restore social evening, where I was totally overwhelmed by the amount of people there, and that I didn’t know many of them. I pulled through by distracting myself with practical tasks.