This mornings lesson was about the Garden of Gethsemane; I could not even contain my excitement. Not. Anyway, Susan was late, probably overslept - no surprise there. My jaw dropped when I saw her barge in, wearing a cardigan that should be made illegal to wear. I had to kick it off with an apology for failing to defrost the church, mainly to Mr Medlicott as, as we all know oh so well, he has shingles. That's a story we've been told one too many times. The sermon was about sex, Susan looked a bit more interested than usual, but she could at least make a little more effort to try and not look as if she's about to fall asleep. I announced that after Easter the bishops would be visiting; everybody looked very excited! Well, everybody except Susan of course. Miserable old bag.
When we got home, Susan decided to cook me chicken wings in a tuna fish sauce. Yum. NOT. She isn't much of a genius in the kitchen. I told her that I thought I hit a nail on the head with my sermon, I placed my hand over hers, attempting to be affectionate. She told me she had to go round with the parish magazine. I call that a lucky escape. I had a lot of paperwork to do anyway. She was gone for quite a while; by the time she came home I was getting ready to leave for my evensong. I asked her if she was going to come. She replied with a blunt 'no', the answer I was expecting, and kind of hoping for. I say I will just tell everyone that she has a headache, I can't have people thinking she's not coming out of choice!
No comments:
Post a Comment