For the past dozen years we've used a Saturday in September to hold concurrent celebration events at two locations across the UK. North/South approximately describes it, though East/West has sometimes been geographically more accurate. Ours (i.e. 'North') was in Belfast last year. For fairness, we aim to toggle between the respective 'patches' of our apostolic team guys. This year, we opted to return to Liverpool. The previous city action day, and evening event at Black-E, had been a great success.
I'd leaned on our household to get over to Liverpool on a Saturday earlier in September, to give a bit of moral support to the local saints' preparatory publicity and prayer walking, etc. Despite the distance, we are Lighthouse's nearest neighbours. I returned from the Multiply trip to find an A3 sheet scheduling the transport arrangements already pinned up on the hallway bookcase. Josh and the guys had been hard at work. They all chipped off early to do set-up. I didn't scrutinise the list until Friday evening, when I discovered that Mary and I were due to ferry (older) Ray and three Chinese students. An interesting mix. I'd expected that Ray should have had his electric scooter.
Come Saturday morning, it all emerged as a considerable challenge, as Mary was poorly in bed. I'd single-handedly have to deliver the passengers to the march start/gathering point (Chevasse Park) on the edge of the posh retail zone, and shuttle the car around between start and finish parking spots. Last time we'd had an extensive trek, having parked on the docks. We also found ourselves snagged up in the Labour Party conference, by which the minibus was taken through a full-on Police security check. But that's another story.
I opted to go via the Woodhead Pass. I couldn't face crawling though Glossop's Saturday shopping traffic. (Older) Ray remained morosely silent. I couldn't quite manage sustained conversation with the Richard, Flora and their friend Ray on the back seat. We pulled into what's left of Burtonwood Services, as I couldn't remember that there were toilets near the shopping centre drop-off point. (My enduring memory of Burtonwood is driving a swaying broken-down double-decker into the now-defunct West-bound carpark, accompanied by four motorway Police cars. Three points on my License for a CU30 offense.) My passengers had spotted Jack, Harriet and family tucking into their lunchtime rolls, so whatever other ideas I'd had for food were highjacked.
Our 'Together' instructions for the day thoughtfully included postcodes for the march start point and for Black-E. So I cranked up the satnav and sought to follow directions. As we got to the Waterfront, the satnav stubbornly insisted that I should turn up a one-way bus lane, and I was abandoned to my wits. I recognised a couple of landmarks, but missed a vital turn just in time to see the Lighthouse minibus emerge from the side road. Round the loop we went again for another 20 minutes. "Jump out now! You wait just beyond that barrier," I urged. To my relief a Birmingham member had spotted my passengers, as I roared off to Black-E, hoping to park up and walk back in time for the march.
Georgie opened the Black-E stage door, much to my pleasure, and I gave Nate, Neive and Elise the small carved elephant I'd brought from Myanmar. Neive offered to come on the march with me. We set off at a pace to find the rest. There was another mission, too. Over breakfast, I'd broken my glasses trying to tighten the nose bridge. Two weeks' of perspiration meant my glasses kept slipping down, annoyingly. If it hadn't been the third morning that I'd found myself fully awake at 4.15am, I may have had more tolerance. Because I declared on my driving license renewal that I need glasses, and I haven't got a spare pair with my current prescription, I needed to get them fixed for the journey back to Sheffield.
The march was lively, but somewhat undirected. Leaders Chris and Loz only had a hand-held megaphone, and couldn't make themselves heard past the first few rows of followers. Ray was puffing along half a mile behind, supported by Andy and Tracy. I wondered if we should get medical help, but instead they put him in a taxi to Black-E. As we all peeled off to our respective evangelism spots, Neive and I went on a hunt for Specsavers. "No, sorry. It's a discontinued line" the helpful assistant reported. I fortified Neive with a bottle of cola, and we trekked off in search of another optician. This time it was Boots. Same story, "We don't do a frame like this." And in answer to my next question, "There's a Vision Express round the corner."
The afternoon had hotted up and I felt overdressed, insulated against the UK climate. The man at Vision Express looked doubtful, but dived off into the 'laboratory'. Yes, I know the glasses are now well out-of-date (and design). But I'd fully expected to have to replace them last after my last sight test, only to find the assistant had declared it unnecessary. The Vision Express man found a spare nose bridge. Apologising that it wasn't exactly what I needed, he handed it over with a smile. Back at Black-E, Gav produced a tube of superglue, and all was well.
The evening event cracked off brilliantly. Elise joined me sitting on stage, as her bit of time with Grandad. Gav had rung Mary and told her that I was looking lost. As Viv was leading a song in the kids' spot, "All of God's children...", everyone joined in with enthusiastic whistling. Only the insistent penetrating squeal wasn't us, but the fire alarm: we all had to vacate the premises. Flora, Richard and Ray were nowhere to be seen. I correctly surmised that they'd sneaked out to the inspect the several nearby Chinese restaurants.
I don't know how my passengers found the journey home. With the twists and turns on the Snake Pass, and my indifferent speed control, I was just grateful to arrive safely. Mercifully, my satnav proved reliable as I dropped off the three Chinese folks at their respective student digs. "Mick says we should do this every year," I commented to Mary. "Not without Ray's scooter," the bedclothes replied.
