Tom reflects on the past few days and how he really can’t stand Simon Peter.
Thomas, Monday July 17
Today is the first time I have even felt able to write since last Thursday. That was the day I had a really useful day improving my swimming technique with Peter, though I might have managed better without him. He always seems to think he knows best, and hasn’t the brain to deal with discussing alternatives. Anyway, I ended up doing it his way and can now confidently swim a long way using breast stroke. I still think my idea of raising my arms out of the water would work better, but Peter said it looked like I was crawling along like a baby.
Jesus prayed for my sunburn to get better but if it had any effect, it certainly wasn’t as instant as casting out a noisy demon. I remember being sunburnt once as a child, but since then I have been really careful to keep covered up. It’s hard being a redhead, but God must have a reason for making us different. My skin is peeling off like a moulting snake’s, but the new layer underneath is healthier and doesn’t feel as if it’s going to crack like a wafer every time I move. My shoulders have come up in really nasty blisters, like genuine burns, and I have been very careful not to burst them in case infection demons get in. Mary has given me poultices for them made from boiled and mashed tree bark, which have been really soothing.
I missed a visit to Bethsaida synagogue on Saturday, which sounded a lively affair. Jesus came back with some new lines written down, some of which were quite good, though they lack the beauty and rhythm of the things I write for him. Apparently he relied on Peter to remember some of them, which may explain the clumsiness.
I had been hoping to try to organise an outdoor meeting this week but my sunburn has set us back. Thursday might be possible but we’ll have to see.