...6.00 a.m. of a Sunday would normally see me still in bed. For what is a curate for - poor sap - if not for turning out early on the Holy Day to take Mattins?
New in town is Anthony, just graduated from seminary and still wet on his crown from the episcopal anointing. A keen lad, as they must be at that age, a bit right-of-centre for my liking - which must infer way, way right - though he will more than do. We've been lacking a decent - or indeed an indecent - curate these past four years, so he is very, very welcome indeed.
And terrifically welcome to early Mattins!
But anyways, I shall not be a dullard abed tomorrow. Up with one of the later larks rather and proudly - in the best and the worst of senses - parading the streets of our nook of The Wolds puffing on the hugest of fine Havana cigars this parish can, at a pinch, muster.
I doubt anyone will mind. I have made my views perfectly clear. A Christian at heart should be a libertarian in my book and the less rendered unto Caesar - and a Caesar who should preferably require the merest minimal of rendering unto - the better say I.
It will not be my intention to flout the law as such. You will not find me marching into our largely empty Church at that hour - Mattins usually inspiring no more than five of our usual and pious suspects - billowing clouds of nicotine.
Nonetheless it shall be my own particular and especial mark of and protest at 'National No Freedom Day'.
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