Saturday, April 4, 2009

Off to Whitby

There probably won't be any posts for a week now as I am going to Vicar school for a week with the nuns at the Convent of the Holy Paraclete. (You can play with the name for yourselves and are bound to come up with the same version. Pieces of eight anyone?")

As I understand it nuns are very aesthetic. At the Wakefield Police College, where we went last year, they are used to feeding police cadets huge quantities of food and we had en-suite shower rooms. At the convent I expect cold showers, over cooked cabbage and lumpy beds. Nuns, in their holiness, don't notice such things such is their perpetual devotion to God.

I feel gloomy already. Not even the sunny personalities of Dr. Bob and Young Mike will, I fear, be able to raise the depression.

Woe is me. For I am a worm and no man!

I shall sit and look at the sea and think of Grandmere Mimi who loved this place.

However today Mrs. D.P. and I celebrated 26 years of marital thingy and went out for a lovely meal where, in anticipation of over cooked cabbage, I ate twice my body weight in Greek food. My beloved was more restrained.

And we met Les Dennis in the restaurant fresh from rehearsals at the West Yorkshire Playhouse: "When we Were Married" by J.B. Priestly. (Oh you name dropper you.) Mrs. D.P.came home and bought a ticket, such was his charm when we bumped into him again in Boots and I accused him of stalking us.