Kind friends drove me to a lecture at the Worthing Theological Society on Monday evening. Not my normal milieu. It was in a Baptist church in West Worthing which smelled of fresh paint and clean baptists. The speaker was a loved Quaker guru, Harvey Gillman, and the room was packed, question time afterwards was unstoppable. But don`t ask me what the talk was about as it sort of washed over me (the subject was mysticism) Most of it went right over my head but I enjoyed the flow of words and imagery. The evening had begun with a delicious supper at the best fish restaurant in Worthing polished off with a nice glass of Pinot Grigio, so what more can anyone ask?
At last I am going to replace my much loved rustbucket, the Nissan Micra with the missing hubcaps, bumped into bumper, and gaffer taped extremities. I can no longer bear the pitying glances of Ditchlingites and others. Simon Brown, an old schoolmate of my three sons, who finds cars for people, is on the case. `I`ll sort you out Vick` he promises, so before long I will have a sleek limo outside St Dominic`s Cottage.
Also I have Bob the Builder sorting out the downstairs loo and place-to-put-my-muddy boots. So I won`t know myself soon. May as well spend, spend, spend, as there are no pockets in shrouds as someone used to say but I can`t remember who.