Suddenly the garden is full of birdsong. It has come unexpectedly, with the sunshine, and is breathtaking in its intensity, as though the birds had forgotten how to sing and are now flinging their rapture heavenwards in a new-found ecstasy of delight. What a contrast with the way we all fell apart during the Kyrie at Mass this morning! Why is it that it is always when the most musical monks come over from Douai to say Mass for us that we waver and quaver? Must have something to do with the humility yesterday's blog was about. This week's podcast makes no great claims for originality but it may spark a thought or two in you. (The hiss is temporary, we hope.)