I had finished reading Psalm 42 this morning, and feeling moderately contemplative, when there was a reasonably loud crash from the next room, followed by an exploratory "Mark?" So I wandered into Nick's room in my fetching green dressing gown to see what the matter might be. The ladder to the loft was there, so I had a look up, and saw Dad, who related the lately perilous condition of the ladder and desired me to go into the garden and get him a better one. This I did, getting Mum to lend a hand. Come to think of it, I never even asked what he was doing up there.

There's a Camberley Bible Club on at the moment for the kiddies. I'm terrible with kids, but I thought, encouraged by Mum, Dad, and Roger that I might pitch in with more down-to-earth things, like erecting small tents, making weak orange drinks alongside caffeine-based ones, and washing them up. I was expecting, given that there's a lot of legally neccessary forms to fill in for working with kids these days, to be politely refused, but when I asked Laura, the person in charge, she did not seem averse. So that's what I did. They sang and clapped and did other things. There was a audio story bit with music that sounded exactly like Super Monkey Ball (I like the Nintendophiles blurb), which seemed noteworthy. Because I am weak-willed, I'm going to be acting as Jesus tomorrow, walking on the water. I was rather too easily talked into it by the youngest leader there, Jess[ica] who had relatively good trousers, the baggy kind with arbitrary strips of material coming off. Think All Saints. Anyway, now that's done and I'm eating tomato soup and writing this. I Should probably phone the Jobcentre, as this is voluntary work, and so long as the fiscal kind isn't forthcoming I shall be doing it all week.