Twenty five years ago . . .

  . . . I was Chaplain to the High Sheriff of Lincolnshire. 

The "pirate" behind me is the High Sheriff, next is an usher, the presiding judge is red robed followed by the Chief Constable and a District Judge 

You may not have realised that such people as High Sheriffs exist!  It's one of the oldest  public offices, dating back to well before the Norman conquest.  These days it's very much a ceremonial office.  It's an honour to be chosen and it is unpaid - they can't even claim expenses which are not inconsiderable.  They serve for just one year before handing on to the next person.

The High Sheriff is the King's main representative for law and order in the county and is appointed by the King.  S/he welcomes the High Court judges, s/he encourages respect for the legal system and recognises the work of the police, fire and rescue, ambulance, prison and probation services.  S/he may also spend time visiting charities, youth groups etc.  In everything s/he represents the Crown, attending civic events, remembrance services and royal visits within the county.  They are not judges, they don't run the police service, they have no legal powers.  

And each has a chaplain which is where I came in.  In this county there is a Cathedral service each term in Lincoln for the opening of the Crown Court.  It was my duty to lead the prayers at that service and then process to the nearby courts to witness the formal opening.  I was a little shocked to find myself seated on the bench with the Judge!  The only other duty was to say Grace at lunches when the Sheriff entertained in his official capacity.

It was fun!  It afforded me the opportunity to see the administration of justice from a place which few people have seen.  I watched proceedings from a very privileged place and whenever we retired from the court the judges were very happy to answer my questions and help me understand what was going on (and why).  When my year was complete I left the role with great admiration for the work of the judicial system.

Normanby Hall and Park

It's a long time since I went to Normanby Park.  There are lots of villages in Lincolnshire which are called Normanby and this one is near Scunthorpe.  Today has been a near perfect day so my trundle truck and I paid a visit.

Normanby Hall is an elegant mansion built around 1825.  It stands in a large park with wonderful, shapely, mature trees which have ample space to show off their beauty.  

One of the best things (from my point of view) is the robust paths through some of the woodland.  It is a real treat to be able to ride my trundle truck through woods.  The paths have a hard, man-made surface which means that even if there has been rain, they can still give a wonderful opportunity to wheelchair and mobility scooter users.

This bit is for Kirsten from "Letter from home".  Recently she wrote about some cardoons which had been saved from the builders who are making alterations to her house.  I thought she might like to see the wonderful specimens being grown at Normanby.  

I will be going back to Normanby as I have bought a season ticket but I feel slightly miffed.  They don't have single person tickets, only doubles.  I feel this is another singles "tax".

It's a while since I posted . . .

 . . . so I wondered if you'd like this list I found.  It's things I've found out since I "matured".

I’ve learned that it takes years to build up trust, and it only takes suspicion, not proof, to destroy it.

I’ve learned that whatever hits the fan will not be evenly distributed.

I’ve learned that you shouldn't compare yourself to others - they are more messed up than you think. .

I’ve learned that I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy it.

I’ve learned that artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity.

(These are from a file which I have had on my pooter for a very long time and some are not my original thoughts.)

Hi, July!

 A whole new month!  I'm still in my salad days  but a new month is still a new month.

I'm booked to take services every Sunday this month.  This is usual for the holiday period.  My friend E and her husband have a narrow boat so they are floating around on a canal somewhere.  I'm not taking all her services as she sometimes does two and I prefer to do just one although I will exert myself in an emergency.  I've also promised to take a midweek service.   Although this is an informal service in a village hall, it takes a lot more preparation than the Sunday jobbies.

A friend has written a book so I am hoping to go to the launch.  

I've got several lunches planned and will enjoy those.

I do not believe that I have shrunk with age, no matter what the ruler at the doctor's surgery says.  Rather, I think the distance down to my feet has increased considerably.  I have therefore decided that someone else can care for my feet for me and I have my first session booked with her.  I'm rather looking forward to that.  

I'm continuing to find UnFinished Objects to donate to the knitters' group stall, raising money to buy various thermal garments for homeless people.  I am rather ashamed of how many I have found but I am rejoicing in getting rid of them.