Holidays are over and I'm sitting waiting to board a ferry to France. Time goes very quickly. I have a car full of exercise books, tennis rackets (fear not, not mine!) angel vestments, a cope, stuff, big candles, a bit more stuff and some things in boxes that I decided I needed to bring back a few weeks ago. No idea what they are now but it was ever thus.
I'm looking forward to the start of term. My second year of being a chaplain abroad. I know the place now and some of the boys and the way things happen and so feel much more part of the furniture.
This is a good place. A good school. It educates and shows the faith for what it is - something to live by and something to die for.
We priests are odd things really. We have to show true joy in what we do. Not the silly mundane things (though I do get real joy from solving a simultaneous equation) but the high honour of touching God. Of being His priest.
I am so fortunate that there is also the joy I feel in returning. A joy made all the more bitter sweet by leaving friends, family, all those I love in England's tender embrace.
I get all sentimental sometimes.