I know you all like the stories of my incompetence. Settle down. Here's one. Strangely, although it is embarrassing, I find that stories of my idiocy bring traffic to my blog like a boson attracts particle physicists.
A few years back my good friend Bob Clucas, who tells this story against himself but really I think it says good things about him, was so deep in a prayer struggle that, taking a break for a coffee, he made two cups, then realised he was alone in the house with God. (And he didn't know if he took sugar?)
So yesterday morning I woke with lots of ideas for things to do to progress my life goals (although, of course, I'd never put it like that) and got to my desk early where I wrote, noted, read, emailed and in the midst of all that made myself some breakfast without breaking my thinking step. At 8.25 I got up from my desk and grabbed the keys to get in the car and join the gang at Christ Church for Morning Prayer. Glancing in the hall mirror on the way out I noticed all was not quite right. Hair out of place? No. Insufficient clothes for an English July? Close but no cigar.
The slightly worrying sight that greeted me was of a tired and scruffy man in an old T-shirt and boxers.
Yes folks. I had forgotten to get showered and dressed.
Terminal decline is here. I embrace it.