At yesterday's boat race, my lawyer friend had suggested that instead of going to St. Paul's like I normally do, that I might join her and her brother for Easter services at their church, a Church of Scotland Church in Kensington. In the morning, after my late night out with the Young Dutchman the night before, I actually remembered this, and so got dressed and got myself out to the church. I took a bus a bit of the way, but actually walked a good portion of the distance, because the bus didn't go where I wanted it to go. I was nervous about how my knee would handle this, but on the whole I was really fine.
I got to the church just before the start of service, found my friend, and we went up and found our places in the pews. Her brother was late (he arrived a good 10-20 minutes later), but eventually did join us in our pew.
The service was pretty bog standard, and I knew most all of the hymns, and had to keep assuring my helpful friend that I knew everything already. I guess what people forget is that I'm already pretty well "churched" from my upbringing, and although I don't go perhaps as regularly as I should, I still know my way around a service pretty well.
The one odd bit was communion, where instead of everyone filing up to receive communion, they brought it down to the aisles, and much like the offering, everyone passed it to each other. Particularly strange was the bread, which instead of wafers, was much like a regular loaf of white bread with the crusts cut off. And I have to admit, I wasn't a fan of how many hands had been on it before it got to me. I could see why a lot of people passed on it.
My lawyer friend is very involved in this church with the flower arranging committee, and once the service had finished, her brother and I made sure to properly admire the "Easter Garden" she'd put together. I thought he made an overly big deal about recounting the compliment of a guy who had been standing there and asked who had done such a good job (she hadn't been there to hear it), but after seeing how pleased she was to hear that her work was recognised, I realised that he was a very good brother to build up his sister's ego like that. After all, it was a job well done!
After the service, my friend noted that she'd made a reservation for her and her brother to have lunch at the Lansdowne, and asked if I'd like to join. After confirming that I wouldn't be intruding on their family lunch, I did indeed join them.
It was a really lovely lunch (I forget at times how good the food at the Lansdowne is!) and I enjoyed chatting with my friends. I found it amusing how the brother called my lawyer friend "sis" all of the time, instead of by her name. It's funny, as I think we all have our terms of endearment for our siblings, but I don't think my brother has ever called me "sis" in my life!
After lunch, I left them (my knee was starting to bother me a bit from all the being out and about), and called my Friend from Kindergarten (we'd mentioned that we should get together over the Easter Holiday), but there was no response from him.
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