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Day off

May 22, 2009

Fridays are usually my Day Off. (Enemies would mutter that it would be more accurate to say that Sundays are my Day On – but we need pay no heed to such bitter saps: they probably don’t believe in Santa Claus either!).

Actually, sometimes the only difference between Fridays and other days is that on Fridays I don’t go to church. Of course I still say the Divine Office, but privately and in Italian, a habit I began in Gibraltar, when I accepted the job of Archdeacon of Italy and moved to Milan. I reckoned it was a bit thick to be declared Archdeacon of a whole country and not speak its language. Of course, the job was simply to oversee the English-speaking Anglican churches of Italy, but my learning Italian made an enormous difference in forming cordial relations with the Roman Catholic Church of the country. I did not attempt to learn Maltese (I was, in fact Archdeacon of Italy and Malta) because that language is very difficult and anyway the Maltese all speak English, sensible chaps!

But I digress (as my aforesaid enemies would say applies equally well to my sermons). My days off are usually devoted to catching up on all the things I meant to do during the week before but never got around to – so I hope I don’t die on a Thursday, or ill-minded persons (see above) might mutter about what a state the Rectory was in. 

Last Friday and this Friday I’ve been stocking up my courtyard garden with annuals and looking anxiously to see if any of the sunflower seed I put in have germinated (they have, except the ones dug up by a squirrel that somehow escaped my anti-squirrel measures). I’ve planted carnations, marigolds, petunias, columbine, delphiniums, geraniums. Two purple clematis have bloomed in large plate-sized flowers, and a white rose has started a few blossoms. So if you will just wait a few weeks, I’ll be glad to show you round my bit of rus in urbe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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