During a visit to the Ophthalmic Department of the Hospital I had an amusing conversation with an Hungarian doctor. After some examination under a special machine she said "You can remove your head". I burst out laughing. We then had a little discussion about English usage, and how she deals with patients who fail to understand her.

Some days previously a Sister, who had formerly lived and worked in Chester, and I went off to see the house-martins in their nesting site by the River Dee. I asked her about the Chester canal system. She then took me exploring. It was like entering another world, tucked in beside Chester, and was fascinating. I actually saw the canal basin, with a stagnant one just a bank away, and men sunbathing on the grass. House-boats were moored there. One looked like a coffin, decked with growing flowers on its roof.

There have been many guests all this month, as in previous months, and many requests for prayers. I think it is the faith of those who turn to us which releases the healing power of God.

Our gardeners have harvested our apple crop and some more plums. Storage is a problem but we have sorted something out. We freeze what we can for the coming winter months. The apples are a great blessing to us. Rhubarb was sparse this year, and we ate what was available. Did we eat all the gooseberries? I can’t now remember. Blackberries have been scarce - just a handful to mix with other fruit. The fig tree has produced well for a young tree but only one fig ripens at a time.

The wild wind played percussion with the rain last night, whipping it against windows and trees. We are taking our Office (of prayer) at a slower rate now, with longer pauses between the psalms. It is more prayerful on a single note.

I have been reading the autobiography of Mrs Mary Seacole, who both nursed the wounded and sold food and necessary goods to the allied soldiers during the Crimean War. She was not accepted by Florence Nightingale as she was a Creole, and may have been considered ‘immoral’ - although her writing does not touch upon that subject. She was in Panama while the canal was being constructed, and one night she had to sleep under a table, hidden behind tablecloths, while her brother and associates slept on top....

At the Oblates’ Meeting at the end of August my conference was on the personal charism of Saint Benedict. We can only glean this from the Rule itself - not from Saint Gregory’s Dialogues, as they are of a completely different literary style.

Sunday 6th September

The day is calm but dull. Having put out much food for the various birds - left by the last cook - I continued in prayer. I had awoken during the night praying for all my deceased relatives and friends, their names were like a list of honour unfolding within me. It was not a conscious effort.

Later, utterly bored, I met another Sister looking as bored as I felt. So we walked around the garden together and livened things up. She had put the hose pipe into the pond as the water level was low. When she removed it - hissing like a snake - Cat Brunie half-backed away and yet her front half was fascinated, eyes popping out of her head! I also saw my first gold fish of the season.

Trying to help a friend, I told her a story: A friend of mine came to visit me in Italy and showed me a book she was reading about medieval manuscripts. In it I came across a story which haunted me for years. A physician, with a mythical bird on his right arm, entered the room of a sick man. The bird looked intently at the sick man, drawing the vapours of sickness out of the man into itself. The man was healed but the bird lost all its vigour. The physician took the bird outside into the fresh air. It could not fly. However, the sun’s rays gradually drew the vapours of sickness out of the bird, and it flew away restored to health.

As a young nun I took this as an image of contemplative prayer. Sometimes darkness descends upon us for no apparent reason. I would then accept it as part of another’s pain, and pray in that darkness for those in special need.

HYMN OF THE UNIVERSE

A limpid sound rises amidst the silence; a trail of pure colour drifts through the glass; a light glows for a moment in the depths of the eyes I love .... Three things, tiny, fugitive: a song, a sunbeam, a glance .....So, at first, I thought they had entered into me in order to remain there and be lost in me. On the contrary: they took possession of me, and bore me away. For if this plaint of the air, this tinting of the light, this communication of a soul were so tenuous and so fleeting it was only that they might penetrate the more deeply into my being .... Teilhard de Chardin

19th September

I was able to pick three pounds of tomatoes for some sort of relish. The recipe had appeared in a magazine given to us. I found the first fallen horse-chestnuts this morning, so collected a few oddments as a ‘Random Harvest’ picture - the title of a book I read when quite young and impressionable, dealing with love and amnesia .....

26th September

Monday: It was very dark outside after Compline. I could no longer see the white petals of the Japanese anemones by the front door. It is equally dark in the early morning, when the occasional screech owl calls during night silence. It is easier to pray in the garden ‘wrapped in night like a garment’. It is mysterious and still. I walk to my special prayer areas, remembering those who have walked here with me, and whose ashes are giving life to the living garden. Only Goldie likes to know where I am, and utters a piteous mew when she has lost sight of me!

I began the necessary habit repairs for various Sisters. We are unable to obtain terylene panama, so I use a collection of old cloth and new material for mending purposes. You should see some of the habits - including one of mine - patch upon patch, sleeves made of original cloth and oddments sewn together.... quite artistic.

This was a week of incidents, one which meant accompanying someone to hospital. As usual, the hospital provided some kindly contacts amid the gum-chewing attendants. The ambulance man said that it was good to see us because it reminded him of his boyhood at St Werburgh’s, although he had lapsed as a Catholic. A kindly cleaner provided tea at the end of the morning.

With all loving wishes and prayers from the not always peaceful precincts of our monastery ....