Dear Diary, The Parson stunned us all this morning by announcing, during his sermon, his intention to retire. I don't think I have seen the congregation so attentive of one of his sermons in recent times. Mouths hung open in shock rather than the usual yawning. Flora Bunder gasped out loud and then Old Mr Bummer made a strange noise and when everyone turned to observe him, he just grinned and said "Pardon me!"
The Parson would not divulge who was to replace him but I have a 'dweadful' feeling who it might be. I hope whoever it is, is as free with their organ as our present Parson has been.
On the walk back to the Grange, Willy approached me and surprised me by asking if I would join him in a game of 'hide and seek' after dinner. He smiled so sweetly and I confess I forgot our past disharmony and so readily agreed. I know a great many hiding places and felt confident I could better him at his game.
When the time came we went out into the garden with Willy deciding to seek first. I crept off as he counted and hid behind the compost mound.
I was there in excess of an hour before I realised I had been had. Willy had no intention of finding me.
4 comments:
Dear Wayne,
For a moment there I thought you were going to say that you had thoughts of joining the clergy and that you would take over the parsonage but then I remembered that first sons inherit and is it the second son marries for money and the third enters the church? But if you did you could have at the old organ all you liked but then it would be your own so no change there.
As for Willy's tricks, Wayne you are just too easy or so I have heard it said.
Relieved,
B.
I think you should hide Willy IN the compost mound. Bury him so that just his head is visible, then toss spoiled vegetables at him until he vows to change his tune.
-h
My dear Mr 'Moose',
I did once ponder the idea of becoming a man of the cloth...such lovely cloth too, sort of a mauve with a glittery sheen....would have made a lovely jerkin... but I tease you...
Yours playfully,
Wayne Austen
My dear distant 'Hepsibah?'
You are not fond of young ones, are you?
Yours probingly,
Wayne Austen
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