I should not be writing to you, I should not. I should be packing for our weekend away at the beach, I should. We are heading to Anglesea for a camp with folk from our local church, we are. That's the one that we go to when we're not with the Reformed Pressies in Geelong, it is.
Normally I love this annual camp, but this year the weather forecast is miserable with rain and cold, and so I am not feeling quite as excited as I would otherwise be. At least we are sleeping in dorms - the idea of tents would be too much to bear.
Somehow I don't think we'll be swimming or canoeing or doing too many hikes through the scrub, but I do hope we'll get outside a bit, and Jemimah is desperate to have a few thrills on the flying fox. We will have plenty of opportunity to fellowship with like minded people; to sing praises to God; to study his Word; and to be refreshed with interesting conversation. I've packed some great books too, so I plan to ensconce myself in the corner of the lounge with an interesting book or three, a big mug of coffee and a piece of homemade slice. If the food is as good as past years I'll be well happy.
Actually, as I write, I can feel the anticipation starting to build. We're going to have a great weekend away. I'd better start packing.