I have heard it said that it's bad form to pray for good weather. Someone must've ignored such correctness, for today's BBQ for the congregation of Holy T was blessed with the most unlikely weather imaginable. We moved from the midgy fastnesses of the church grounds - all very picturesque in their own way - and colonised the end of the beach at Ardentinny. The sun shone from a cloudless sky, a light breeze tweaked the frisbee from its path, and the midges were kept more or less at bay by the smoke from a fine fire on the sand.
It's days like this that make you glad you belong to a tiny church perched on the fringes of civilisation (and after all, you can just make out the storage location of Britain's Trident missiles in the background of the pic, so obviously we have all the accoutrements of 21st century life to hand). We had the beach to ourselves; presumably most would-be picnickers had been put off by the torrential rain at breakfast time. Octogenarian cricketers set about a ball with a ferocity which had me looking for the resuscitation equipment and Mr B revisited his youth with a few sixes into the trees. A game of frisbee on the sand had some of us hurling ourselves about in an injudicious fashion for which we shall doubtless suffer, and KB exhorted all to risk toothache and seared lips with toasted marshmallows.
It was the best of barbies, this, and all the better for the total lack of any Plan B. The weather just had to be good, and it was. Happy Independence Day, Kimberly - great party!
* Other pics of the day can be seen here
