World Cup and Wimbledon in the same week, not to mention the budget.
Horses panicking as flag-flying cars whizz past, and a drought in the North West. It all feels like Alice through the Looking Glass. The world's gan wud. We are more used to wellies than sandals in these parts. Farmers are complaining that grass does not grow and neither do crops.
This morning when I was sitting I remembered how the parable of the Prodigal Son was my favourite story from the bible. It's very similar to the a tale the Buddha told about a rich man looking for his long lost son. Only in my family I was the prodigal parent, never imagining that my spiritual home could be my ordinary, everyday home.