This week we attended a remarkable occasion at our local church( to which I contribute on a regular basis) to celebrate its two hundredth anniversary in its present form and to open a restoration fund for the magnificent organ. The Sainted One came with me which was unusual. As we were leaving he asked if I could give him some money for the collection plate. I knew he had twenty pounds, I had seen it lurking somewhere. I declined, explaining that I had a note but was saving up for a pack of M and S knickers and things were a bit tight. There was a bit of a sulk and a lot of trumpeting about the ten pounds the Nipote borrowed for a pizza three weeks ago, the rationale was that if this awesome debt had been repaid on time there would be a ready availability of ten pounds. God works so cleverly you know It was an open plate bristling with twenty pound notes and two fifty’s the S. O was flanked by two powerful members of the clergy and yes I saw it……. The twenty pound note!!!! “You had it all along “ I barked in the car “Yes but I wanted to break it and I knew you had two ten pound notes.” “ never said I didn’t “ said I.
It was later that I recalled bumping into “Lady Duckhouse” at an affluent parliamentary function last week. She is rather nice actually. We got to chatting, “ do you think any of these people have to live on Parliamentary pensions?” she pondered casting a “well-heeled eye” about the room. I shifted uncomfortably in my awful shoes and felt like the curates wife attending morning coffee at the Bishops Palace. I could not work out whether she was being very witty and clever or incredibly thick skinned. I must say I fluffed up a bit in indignation. This does explain the church plate business a bit I suppose there were no duck houses here and no fancy allowances but I once got and offer of a free cervical smear in midwinter in a parked van outside the admiralty.