Lincolnshire was a beautiful as I had ever seen it. We had a deep frost and new snow with a blue sky like a scene from Narnia. Even the trees were laced entirely in white.
Having to return to London, I felt depressed. I know that sometimes waves of depression can hit you like a rolling tide, enveloping and leaving everything bitter. One way of resisting this force is to set another against it.
To concentrate again and repeat again and again the words of the Centurion and imagine the Eucharist. ‘Lord I am not worthy to enter under any roof, but only say the word and I shall be healed.’