I must have been slow off the mark when the Multiply planning team chose to hold a meeting in the office that I share. My name appeared on the minutes, and I was co-opted into the monthly agenda. Or maybe it was my mild protest when Huw said we wouldn't be holding an event on the opening Saturday of the Conference week, even though that was the focal point in the Church diary. "You can't do that, Huw. The guys will have travelled here with that date in mind. Ed and I will be happy to sponsor an informal Welcome/Reception event for them."
Apostolic Men Empowering the Nations is our catchy title for the main leaders of the International Network. They each operate in clutch of countries. Regular readers of this blog will have met Gregory (Kenya), Steven (Zambia) and Rukundo (Rwanda) from my trips to East Africa, and Colney from India.
I usually stay at Kings House throughout the week's deliberations. But the saints there moved to Coventry in April. This year I'm toggling my time between Kings-in-Coventry and the Farm. But the story starts at Cornerstone in Birmingham. I'd planned to stay one night en route to a family Trust get-together in Cheltenham. This AGM fulfills the legalities surrounding Mary's aunt's inheritance money, which got invested in a tax-efficient pot that can't be touched for twenty years.
"Rukundo arrives at Birmingham at 9am," Mick announced after Thursday tea. "And Steven's landing at Heathrow at 6am. So we'll have them both here tomorrow." 'Tomorrow' Mary was catching a train from Sheffield, and Mick and I would collect her from Cheltenham station.
Friday morning, just as I greeted Rukundo with an unpolished "Habari ya asubuhi", Mary texted to say the train was an hour late leaving. No matter, Mick and I headed down the M5 as planned, and parked near the Italian eatery that Tony proposed for lunch.
Actually, it was worse than that. Mary booked her journey with our common purse pre-paid 'plastic', and only collected the sales receipt - not her tickets - from the station machine. She'd nearly been thrown off the train, and had had to fork out an extra £16 to get from Birmingham New Street. It wasn't for the first time this week that I commented, "We seem to be battling with the 21st Century and losing." Maybe my 70th birthday on Tuesday made me uncustomarily defeatist. I'd just loaded a forkful of Penne al Gianni when Mary rang to say she'd arrived. Then the frustration of Cheltenham's one-way system.
Later, back at Cornerstone, Steven had arrived. We sat together for tea. Rukundo declined to give Steph's guide-dog his apple core. Ah, cultural tides. We chatted about Tanzania, the current political unrest in Burundi and children's school books. Then the household gathered for their weekly prayer time. They were keen that Saturday afternoon's 'bluebell barbecue' should go well. I made a mental note to book the four of us in for lunch at Cornhill, ahead of the planned Reception. After their overnight flights, the guys headed gratefully for an early night in bed.
Apostolic Men Empowering the Nations is our catchy title for the main leaders of the International Network. They each operate in clutch of countries. Regular readers of this blog will have met Gregory (Kenya), Steven (Zambia) and Rukundo (Rwanda) from my trips to East Africa, and Colney from India.
I usually stay at Kings House throughout the week's deliberations. But the saints there moved to Coventry in April. This year I'm toggling my time between Kings-in-Coventry and the Farm. But the story starts at Cornerstone in Birmingham. I'd planned to stay one night en route to a family Trust get-together in Cheltenham. This AGM fulfills the legalities surrounding Mary's aunt's inheritance money, which got invested in a tax-efficient pot that can't be touched for twenty years.
"Rukundo arrives at Birmingham at 9am," Mick announced after Thursday tea. "And Steven's landing at Heathrow at 6am. So we'll have them both here tomorrow." 'Tomorrow' Mary was catching a train from Sheffield, and Mick and I would collect her from Cheltenham station.
Friday morning, just as I greeted Rukundo with an unpolished "Habari ya asubuhi", Mary texted to say the train was an hour late leaving. No matter, Mick and I headed down the M5 as planned, and parked near the Italian eatery that Tony proposed for lunch.
Actually, it was worse than that. Mary booked her journey with our common purse pre-paid 'plastic', and only collected the sales receipt - not her tickets - from the station machine. She'd nearly been thrown off the train, and had had to fork out an extra £16 to get from Birmingham New Street. It wasn't for the first time this week that I commented, "We seem to be battling with the 21st Century and losing." Maybe my 70th birthday on Tuesday made me uncustomarily defeatist. I'd just loaded a forkful of Penne al Gianni when Mary rang to say she'd arrived. Then the frustration of Cheltenham's one-way system.
Later, back at Cornerstone, Steven had arrived. We sat together for tea. Rukundo declined to give Steph's guide-dog his apple core. Ah, cultural tides. We chatted about Tanzania, the current political unrest in Burundi and children's school books. Then the household gathered for their weekly prayer time. They were keen that Saturday afternoon's 'bluebell barbecue' should go well. I made a mental note to book the four of us in for lunch at Cornhill, ahead of the planned Reception. After their overnight flights, the guys headed gratefully for an early night in bed.
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