A treat?

Two of our kids visited this last weekend. Well, we had threatened them with chucking all of their stuff, which has been cluttering the Rectory for the last ten years, into a skip if it’s not cleared by the end of this month. So there was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing.

In the course of the weekend they asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday in August.

“Nothing, really. Perhaps a quiet family meal? There’s a lot going on, what with retiring an’ all.”

“But it’s your 65th! We have to do something special like we did for your 63rd. How about a Laser Quest?”

(The 63rd birthday was a hare-brained visit to Thetford Forest to ‘Go Ape’ in the treetops. A kind of adult assault course, thirty feet up. Sounded terrific – until I started. I had forgotten that a terrible fear of heights attacks you as you get older. Unless it’s just me? My legs very quickly turned to rubber. And do you have any idea how exceedingly difficult it is to climb rope ladders? No. Nor did I. I barely survived.)

“Er, ye-es. That might be interesting.”

“That’s a ‘no’, then. What about bowling?”

“Mm. Could do. Years since I went bowling.”

“Oh. Not enthusiastic there, then. Well,” eyes lighting up at this point, “How about roller skating?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, before I’d had time to think it through sensibly. “I used to love roller skating. I’d love to go again.”

“And,” they added, getting into the swing, “there’s a children’s play area which would be perfect for Leilah (aged three). But who would look after her in there?”

“Oh, your father will never roller skate. He’ll look after her. He’ll enjoy that.”

So there we are. They rushed off to fix it up. And in the cold (sober) light of day I’m beginning to realise what a crazy fool I am. Will I never learn?

So if you hear about this mad English Rector attending her farewell service in plaster and on crutches, you’ll know exactly who it is. I hope you’ll spare me a prayer.

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