From getting off the train from London, it took less than five minutes to stroll down the lane that leads to the beautiful cloistered brick buildings and well-tended gardens of the community where John Stott now lives.
Resplendent rose bushes competed with ancient English oaks and beech trees for my eyes' attention, while the whole open quadrangle breathed peace and calm, with the central chapel completing the familiar impression of a Cambridge college.
John Stott's desk
I found Uncle John as I had so often found him before, seated at his desk. This time however he was not looking out over Bridford Mews, but through exquisite leaded windows over the lawn and gardens around which all the accommodation is arranged.
He was, as usual, surrounded by papers, assisted by his magnifying reading machine. Frances Whitehead spends a day each week with him working on continuing correspondence.
The grounds at John Stott's retirement home
It is still less than a month since John moved in, yet already I heard him greeting many of the residents and staff by name. His gift of friendship and memory for names have clearly not been left behind in London.
He was telling me of one of the several retired bishops among the residents with whom he has struck up a friendship, and how they had spent an hour and a half that morning walking around the grounds together.
