Helen attended last night's parish meeting wearing a niqab she had rapidly knocked-up from one of Ericka's cast off tank-tops. She said, of course, that she was wearing it in solidarity with Muslim women who wished they didn't have to see Jack Straw's face leering out at them from every newspaper. I almost hesitated to respond that the gold lame niqab look went out in late Byzantine times, and perhaps I should have indeed refrained from the remark as I swear she mouthed an obscenity at me from under the veil. How very convenient for her and how unfair to me! On the whole the meeting took her protest well, that is they hardly mentioned more than six times in the minutes!

Frank remarked that he was fed up with bad people being given good ideas, as he had been playing his weekly poker night and three of the players had worn the face-hiding niqab as well as their traditional wrap-around sunglasses. Apparently this is to minimise their 'tells' - those unintentional actions or expressions that reveal a good or a bad hand. [One player, I was told, always wore a voluminous hood, much like a medieval monk, to cover his face from show.] I will check, but my memory is that the Koran is not light on the evils of gambling, though of course we Xtians do so rely on tombolas and raffles for church funds.

Frank also said I have an inevitable 'tell' when I reach a part in the sermon which I feel uncomfortable about because I'm not sure I believe what I'm saying. He wouldn't, however, tell me what the tell is, which was disconcerting and will make me very nervous for some weeks. Is doubt really so hard to disguise?

Anyway, apart from Helen's statement of solidarity the meeting passed without incident. That is, nothing as ever was agreed or decided. I must take lessons from Canon Michael down the road, who rules with a rod of ecclesiastical iron and demands consensus on pain of excommunication.

Back home though to awful rows and recriminations. Apparently Ericka had immediately noticed the loss of the tank-top - last worn some seven years ago - and berated Helen as a mother from hell who hated her children. Inner peace was only restored after the third whisky in the study, though how the argument ended between the two of them I cannot say. My suspicion is that resolution will require both of them to go shopping in Norwich for expensive new clothing for each.

And so to bed.