Both women have spent hours in Intensive Care today with a little boy who may well be dying. Draining. I've been six hours doing churchy things whilst all the time my mind's been on the situation they've been in - also draining, in a less critical way. One tells me she now needs to go to a quiet Evening Prayer, "just to be in the same room as people who are praying." The other will honour her commitment to host a barbeque, and says she will deal with the emotion of her day by "drinking a lot of lager." Fair enough.
I sympathise with both instincts, and have the option of attending either event. The decision is made - I'm going to the barbeque, tins in hand. There are ways of praying whilst drinking; burgers and beer will do very well as body and blood for us tonight.