To make my Sunday duty more bearable I took along a '62 hand missal to Mass with me...
Despite this, I did what I once abhorred, and ran for the door as soon as we were dismissed, not waiting for the awful last song to be sung. O tempora, O mores!
Having read up some of the details in the B.D.W., which I again used for prayer this morning, I discovered that the lessons I read yesterday were actually all wrong! Oh well.
To-day has been hot (29), and the sun, burning. A good walk around the Gorge was really taxing. And this afternoon, another long drive, up past Devonport and along the north-west coast to Penguin and back (about 250 km or so). The countryside, and the seaside, at least appears green and in the full burst of springtime; all the hawthorn bushes along the roads are in flower. They say Tasmania in its oldest settled parts looks like England - I've never been Home, so I wouldn't know.