About a castle

My life and my husband’s go on in two almost completely separate bubbles. He is aware that our house has been sold and that I’m moving. He hasn’t asked where or shown any interest in what’s happening. It’s that sort of thing that makes me feel like a rather junior member of staff. Well, it would take a particularly kindly and well-informed boss to remember and ask the postboy or equivalent about his house move!

So today being Thursday, it seemed appropriate to carry on with ‘life-where-our-lives-touch’ – in other words, the weekly outing. I had to deliver a signed form and a cheque to the removals firm in a village some way south of here so I hoped the drive there, in bright if chilly sunshine, might count as part of the outing. And then I booked us in somewhere nice for lunch: the Butley Orford Oysterage. Not that either of us eat oysters.

It is a pleasant fish restaurant in a very pretty village. The only problem is parking. So much so that I had quite a long discussion on the subject with the woman who took our booking. She came up with some innovative solutions. One of which I used.

Orford has a castle.

It’s an imposing keep set in a great strategic position on a hill, from where it can overlook the countryside behind it and all the sea and river approaches in front of it. It is cared for by English Heritage and, according to the notice on the gate, now has a Museum in the upper storey.

It is said that an Englishman’s home is his castle – but when dementia has stormed the fragile cells of his brain, bricks and mortar are worthless. Which is why the sale of the house we owned for the past 6 years is of no import to him – though maybe a bit daunting for me!

And so I come hurtling back to God:

‘You are my hiding place’ Psalm 32:7

‘my refuge and my fortress’  Psalm 91:2

‘a shield for all who take refuge in him’ Psalm 18:30

‘The Lord is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear?’ Psalm 27: 1

And gradually peace returns.