Sunday.

Doorway from the porch into the Church at Brent Eleigh. Nice, solid, piece of work.
This morning we both sang in the choir at the 10.30 am communion service at St. Mary's. We'd been told we wouldn't need a choir practice. In the event this was a mistake. During the last hymn, which was being played at the wrong speed (and this wouldn't have mattered quite so much had the organist been playing the right tune), the Rural Dean (who was taking the service) looked round at me and raised an eyebrow. The following conversion was conducted between the Rural Dean and meself entirely by use of eyebrows, rolled eyes and despairing looks, but was quite clear and intelligible to both of us. It went :-

R.D. "What the *&$%++4&* is happening ???? Musically, I mean."

M.s. "Your Employer knows. I certainly don't. And I value my sanity too much to try and find out. You might try a spot of direct communication with The Governor, applying for Divine Intervention. But it might take the form of the organ being struck by lightening."

R.D. (after some thought) "Oh. Yes. Alright then. You might have a point."

We are having the annual carol service this evening. We have been requested to assemble in church at 4.45pm to practice...... (So perhaps some lessons have been learnt - or are about to be - by us.)

Tell you later maybe - if I survive.