Vicar Mind.

Mel came over today and we took the longer of the two walks to the mediaeval church. She likes our local church and wants to take photographs of it at the four quarters of the year. (Correction: she wants me to take the photographs.)

So anyway, there’s a notice on the gate which says: The church is open so you may have a quiet place in which to contemplate the Ukraine crisis. Mel asked ‘Why would I need a quiet place? And why only the Ukraine crisis?’ Quite; that’s vicars for you.

So then we went and sat on a bench by the church door and were engaged in conversation when a middle aged woman came out and regarded us with evident curiosity. I assume she was the vicar because she said ‘hello’ with an authoritative air which suggested the presumption that she had the right to question unfamiliar interlopers invading her hallowed ground. I said ‘hello’ back and then she asked the strangest question: She waved her arm in the general direction of the gravestones and asked ‘Do you have people in here?’ I expect my expression was quizzical when I replied ‘No.’ As I said: that’s vicars for you.

We were rescued from her attention by the arrival of two forty-somethings and two little girls, each with a beagle on a lead. The grown ups were conducted into the body of the church while the little girls remained outside with the dogs which they didn’t introduce to me. That was today’s only disappointment.