Mum and Mrs Ramsbotham had a long talk after the service this morning and they are friends again. Mrs Ramsbotham told Mum that she should be on the PCC provided she didn’t wear that hat, but Mum declined on the grounds that she has favoured Direct Action ever since Dad scuttled off with That Woman, and she is thinking of becoming an Annerchist having had her eyes opened by Feodor Dostoevski.
Statistics from this morning’s service: Hymns 7. Lessons 2. Sermons 1. Clergy 1. Congregation 17. Choir 0. Organists 0. Collection £1.47 and two IOUs totalling a further £1.39.
The Vicar, I mean Ken, preached about human frailty and why our churches are nearly always empty, even though loyal people play guitars at the remaining few, and how difficult it is sometimes to see the Gingerbread beneath the Guilt, but Mum said she could tell his heart wasn’t in it, though it didn’t matter because everyone else was fast asleep.
I feel very sorry for Ken, but I am a bit worried about the collection plate, out of which my enhanced Stipend is to be paid.
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