Back in the Saddle

Not one to be beaten by the vagaries of a missal, I hied myself back to Mary Mags this morning. On the downside, I did manage to be late, after turning down the wrong street in my haste and finding myself at the Portugese Seventh Day Adventists a block and half away. On the upside, I was pleased to discover that I could remember the chants, so I wasn't doing my juggling routine. The church was fuller than last week, perhaps because it is Canadian Thanksgiving this weekend (of which more anon), and I noticed that a good third of them knelt for the Sanctus so I felt somewhat vindicated in last week's error (even while I corrected it). No idea what the Mass setting was, but the motet was Tallis If Ye Love Me, which was very heaven.

I tripped home, inspired, to listen to Spem in Alium and do some work. Instead I found that I hadn't put Spem on my iPod and that the dishwasher was broken. Jettisoning my church togs along with any hope of passing the day in intellectual pursuits, I have just spent a goodly proportion of the sabbath on my hands and knees with a monkey wrench trying (and failing) to identify the source of a leak in a copper pipe and striking improbable poses in my attempt to wedge myself into the under-sink cupboard for a better view. Having rather predictably got exactly nowhere with the amateur plumbing, I have put my frock on again and am lying with my ankles crossed enjoying sunshine, Tacitus and Handel (best I could do) until it is time for my dinner date. Sublime, ridiculous, whatever...