From the Vicarage

If you drive, you probably know what it’s like to turn into a busy supermarket car park, carefully follow the arrows to a suitable parking space, and have to swerve to avoid someone who has apparently noticed neither the arrows nor the ‘no entry’ signs telling them that they are going the wrong way.

In school, I once asked one of my classes how many of them would like to be famous. Some liked the idea – finding their X-Factor or becoming a famous athlete really appealed to them. Others weren’t so sure – they preferred their lives as they were. Here at the Vicarage we now have a Celebrity Bunny. Not the Easter Bunny, but our own Peter Rabbit. He is getting old, and problems with his teeth require a visit to the vet every couple of months.

I have never forgotten the Sunday morning, just a few weeks after I arrived, when I climbed into the pulpit and began my sermon with the story of the three vicars who had bats in the belfry. If you were there, you probably remember how it goes. If you weren’t, sadly I don’t have space here to tell you how it ends. In any case, it hasn’t seemed quite so funny since it turned out that I also have bats, not just in the belfry but in other places too – and they’re not housetrained, either.