Ilkley Baptist

Ian McEwan's novel Saturday was a present from my sister for my birthday. When people ask me what I'd like for a present I quite often ask them to give me a book they've enjoyed themselves.

I enjoyed reading it, too. It's about a day in the life of a neurosurgeon, Henry Perowne. The day happens to be the day when more than a million people converged on London and marched to Hyde Park in protest at the proposed war on Iraq. Henry doesn't join the march, he thinks he probably supports the case for war, but he plays squash, has a minor car accident, nearly gets beaten up, visits his elderly, demented mother, hears the rehearsal of his son's new song, cooks seafood stew, welcomes his daughter and father in law to the house, and is subjected to a violent break-in, during which his wife is held at knife point.

McEwan's style suits a single day, because he is very interested in the working of people's minds, the nature of their consciousness. And of course, so is a neurosurgeon. McEwan will often describe the thought processes of Henry, the vague feelings that don't quite reach consciousness, the motives that push him towards a decision, the considerations that half come to attention, and the physical sensations and emotional resonances that colour it all: then he'll add that all this took only two and half seconds!

The plot is troublingly far-fetched. The two key events are Henry avoiding a beating by diagnosing his would-be mugger as suffering from Huntington's chorea and, like some seer, throwing this at him, and later on, Henry's daughter, Daisy, disarming the same mugger, now threatening the family with a knife (and accomplice) by reciting Dover Beach to him.

The day is a counterpoint to the question of the war on Iraq, and it also dabbles in the troubling questions of how we make decisions, and what it means for people to lose their minds to dementia. It didn't illuminate these questions much for me, but it does provide a starting point for thought.

The thing I think I shall remember the longest is the description of Henry's son, Theo's, music. There are a couple of passages in the book that I think contain the best description of music I've read, and there is real warmth here. Something lacking from the rest of the book, I thought. I didn't warm to Henry at all.

I went to the Parish Council tonight. Another boring meeting for a clergy representative, sitting in the dark on the back row while the councillors, bless them, drone on correcting minutes and saying there's nothing to report, or so I thought. I could hardly get in the room! Ilkley Residents Against Tesco Encroachment were there. Not particularly irate, I must say, but cogent and resolute, determined to oppose the re-siting and massive enlargement of our local store.

I must say, I agree with them. I wonder if the churches in Ilkley should get stuck in, too. Interestingly, IRATE thought it might be too political for us. I think that community issues are our sort of politics, though. I'm not sure I want to oppose Tesco as such (though their fairtrade record might be a bit weak), but there comes a point where consumerism and capitalism stop supporting democracy and liberty and start being destructive. We need to learn the meaning of 'enough,' and I think the churches might want to voice concerns.

8.63 inches makes June the wettest month I've recorded. What I'd really like now is a couple of record breakingly dry month. Especially August when we'll be camping!

Up to 7.99 inches today. A few passing showers aren't going to get us to the record, though.

On Tuesday I'm leading a church walk on the moor, taking in some of the prehistoric sites. It's been fascinating discovering them over the past few years. I've also enjoyed working out some of the geology and botany. Going east from Lanshaw Delves, which is a lateral morraine of the Wharfedale glacier, past the Little Skirtful of Stones you come to a green grassy knoll with wild thyme growing on it (in flower, now). This, I think, must be a patch of limey soil, made alkaline by limestone transported from upper Wharfedale. The heather plants shrink to nothing and the grass grows like a sheep's dream!

Yesterday's rain exceeded an inch, the fourth such day this month, so June 2007 is in second place behind August 2004 in the rainfall stakes. We're at 7.93 inches today, 8.32 is the target to beat, and we have until 9am on Sunday morning to get there!

I've been comparing the two top months. August 2004 had two very wet spells, well spaced out, whereas the bulk of this month's rainfall has fallen from the 13th to the 25th; more than 5 inches in that 12 day period, so considerably more concentrated than August 2004. Yesterday I tried to drive to Harrogate, taking the back way from Otley, up Leathley Lane. We drove through many floods, one of them alarmingly deep, and began to regret setting out! A surprisingly good tempered police officer, standing by his car in six inches of torrent, turned us back before we got to the Otley Road turn. I didn't fancy risking the deep flood twice, so headed back via Fewstone, which was a bit better. But everywhere we went the gutters were awash, often the whole road was submerged, and stones were scattered across the tarmac. All very exciting for a weather geek!