I got a fancy new body cream which I applied to my person for the first time recently. As I sailed fragrantly out of the bathroom, herself emerged from her bedroom, sniffed the air and asked, “Why do you smell of strepsils?”
Curse you, lemongrass.
Archives for September 2019
Two Worlds Collide
We are going to an adventure centre for the boys’ upcoming birthday. As part of this a waiver is needed from the invitees’ parents. I drafted up a comprehensive letter with details of pick-up and departure times; waiver information; addresses; website address for the centre etc. The boys gave it out to their friends.
“Do you think that the wording of the letter might have been a bit overly lawyerly and formal?” asked Michael that evening. “I don’t think so,” I replied firmly. “Why do you ask?” “It’s just that my friend R tried to eat his invitation.”
Massing
I took my father to mass in Cork this morning. We went to the same church where my mother’s funeral was. I’ve been there lots of times since but it made me feel gloomy this morning for some reason. My parents would have been 52 years married on Friday so maybe that is part of it. The priest recited this slightly mawkish prayer (thanks Cardinal Newman) and I was a bit weepy whereas normally I am superior about the sentimentality – the parish priest in Cork is keen on it and recites it often and I think he may have done so at my mother’s funeral:
O Lord, support us all the day long,
until the shadows lengthen,
and the evening comes,
and the busy world is hushed,
and the fever of life is over,
and our work is done.
Then in your mercy,
grant us a safe lodging and a holy rest,
and peace at the last.
Amen.
My father was quite cheerful though, I have to say.
Great readings this morning anyhow: real crowd pleasers. The gospel was about the steward who gets fired for incompetence. A couple of the lines have survived in general conversation (at least in the house I grew up in): “Give me an account of your stewardship, for you may no longer be steward”; “Take your bond and write twenty”; “To dig, I am unable; to beg I am ashamed.”
All of these have been changed in the version we got this morning and not improved in my opinion. I mean “Dig? I am not strong enough. Go begging? I should be too ashamed.” Just not as good I submit.
The priest gave a big long sermon about stewardship of the earth and Laudato Si and how all the children who had been marching on Friday on climate change were terrific. I was quite sorry that herself wasn’t there as she had been dutifully marching and it’s not often that she is in a position to agree with a sermon on a Sunday.
How was your own weekend? I feel that most of mine was spent on trains.
