I like the silent church before the service begins, better than any preaching.Ralph Waldo Emerson.
I need to have a favourite place in the centre of my life for quiet reflection.
At this moment in time this place is the final polished pew  underneath the high vaulted ceiling of my local church.
The first time I remember being drawn unconsciously into that perfect space was last summer. I was new to the area during last spring’s sunshine and as I was feeling a little lonely, I found myself wandering round the church gardens admiring the spring blossom.
As I was seated on an ornate wooden bench I noticed the church door was open. I was feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland when I decided to cross the portal to see what was there.
The church was built mid nineteenth century and has a very high unadorned grey steeple. However when you walk into the inner sanctum the first thing you notice is fantastic vaulted ceiling, the unusual design of which makes you feel as though you are be travelling across the Atlantic on a large sailing ship.
The church was redecorated in the nineteen sixties and one half of the ceiling is painted sugar pink between each ornate white roof truss and the opposite and symmetrical half of the ceiling is painted a perfect matching pale green.
This quiet place has drawn me back there many times since in both rain or shine, for a moment of rest or reflection.
On this particular morning I had awoken feeling really dreadful, everything single part of my body ached and the temptation was to close my eyes and drift back off to sleep.
Determined to get on with day I flung the pale lilac, Egyptian cotton covers back from my prone form, heaved myself out of bed and padded quietly to the kitchen.
There was a note on the table that told me my husband had left for work about an hour before and reminded me that I had a doctor’s appointment that morning.
I had an hour to get ready and decided I would to try and walk there. My MS had flared up but thankfully the dreaded gout had mercifully dissipated thanks to medication and my recent conversion to vegetarianism.
I had found this very hard at first but since I discovered pure protein is anathema to a gout sufferer so there was no contest between enjoying a rib eye steak and the pleasure of being able to put my foot on the floor……….