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Parish letter



From the Curate

My little dog is a bit unsettled as I write; he keeps escaping and sitting by the car. In fact  whilst I was trying to find the toaster in the garage today – you might be wondering why we put kitchen items in the garage, they were there out of the way whilst the kitchen was fitted in our new house as we relaxed in France – my little dog insisted on sitting in the boot of the car.  It was really a bit too hot for this car occupation routine, but I let him sit there, all windows open, and he just sat watching me wasting my time fruitlessly looking for the toaster. My wife found it, in the spare bedroom.

A house move, three nights in the new house, and then three weeks in France, staying in two different rented houses and one night in a hotel has, to put it mildly, rather unsettled little Chester.  Apart from me, the car seems currently the most important thing in his little mind.  I have no doubt he is happier travelling with his EU pet passport than staying in England and enduring a kennel but I have to concede he is nevertheless unsettled. The house move on the other hand has unsettled me.  It has made me feel like a very badly organised nomad.  I had to ask my son to buy a tin opener tonight and a glass dish for the microwave when he nipped out to do some shopping. I console myself by thinking that this time next year hopefully we as a family will be probably reasonably organised again.  A nomadic life can be tough.  The Jews spent 40 years wandering in the wilderness.

When they ran out of water they rather lost their patience with God.  Hard I think to really blame them. The golden calf does however, at least to me, seem to be a somewhat perplexing thing to resort to.  Chester doesn’t like cattle. Where we stayed for a week near Nantes the young bullocks were especially noisy and lively; they quite put the wind up Chester but for myself I couldn’t see anything to worship.  I enjoy a rare steak with a glass of red just as much as any other Francophile, but cattle worship has never occurred to me.

But, and it is a big but, I think I can understand how desperate and frustrated they were and desperate people do desperate things.  They turn to the bottle, they steal, they beg, they try crossing oceans in flimsy boats. What a lucky person I am, my current woes revolve around trying to find the toaster and the cable for my digital radio. The latter still hasn’t been found.

God bless, William

 

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