…..or how I missed my Sunday morning walk. Actually I missed my Sunday morning breakfast too! I had some extra time in bed though I had no more sleep than I usually get, I had made a few visits to the toilet which broke it up. Anyhow I was just sitting at my dressing table and about to apply my make-up when my phone rang. it was from an elderly lady living in a small township about nine miles away along the coast. I used to live at the north end of the same town a few years ago. She apologised for calling on a Sunday morning but she was looking for an electrician who would be available to fix a fault. I asked what the problem was and she told me the electrical supply had tripped and there was a fluorescent light fitting hanging from the ceiling in her kitchen. As my readers might know by now I will only work on a Sunday if it is an emergency. Well a total loss of power would constitute an emergency in our modern society as there would be no heating, lighting or power for fridges and freezers. I told the lady I would be there within the hour and I arrived there forty-five minutes later. First of all I had to put on my make-up of course but that only takes a few minutes. Naturally I skipped breakfast and drove straight there. As it happened her daughter, who was living there, had not long ago returned from hospital after an operation and she was desperate to get the heating switched back on. As I walked into the hallway I saw the fluorescent light hanging there on the cable. The main RCD unit on the distribution panel had tripped thereby cutting off all the electrical circuits. I disconnected the light then re-instated the supply much to the relief of the customer who promptly prepared each of us a hot drink of coffee. Whoever had installed the light hadn’t used the correct fixings for the ceiling and the weight of the light had gradually loosened them. Fortunately no-one had been in the kitchen when it fell from the ceiling. I refitted the light, this time securely! As is usual when a few women get together much chatting goes on, which is exactly what happened while I was there.
They were asking me about my faith and what church I attend. I told them that I no longer go to church but that when I did it was first of all a Methodist church and after I had become a Christian, a Pentecostal church. The daughter especially wanted to know about the practice of speaking and worshipping in ‘tongues’ and how I became a Christian. They were Christians too. They told me that they travel into Liverpool (a further fourteen miles along the coast) to the Anglican Cathedral for worship and especially the teaching they receive from the clergy there. Finally I had to return home, it was time for something to eat. I had prepared a chicken and vegetable stew late on Saturday afternoon so I had no cooking to do, just heating it up. I suppose I could have then gone for a walk but somehow the novelty had worn off and I rested instead……I had work to do the following day.