Perhaps I should be feeling a little guilty. Today I opened the gate.
Today as Mrs G and i walked back from the "branch vestry" where we consumed a couple of pints of local ale, we saw a familiar face. On a small mound next to the golf course car park, looking out to sea, we saw something that looked like Augustine. Back at the Manse, Foxy-Knoxy was all alone in the garden. Of Luther, there was no trace, and there was no sign of the parents on the roof. As we closed the curtains, Foxy-Knoxy walked down the path, stepped onto the road and off into a brave new world. And a dangerous world it is too, as round here, they are liable to be run over by a golf buggy.
We've been wanting rid of the chicks from the garden since they landed, so it's perhaps a little sad to see them go. On the other hand, the postman can deliver without having his bag over his head for safety, and the man that was door-to-door witnessing (seriously, who witnesses to a manse?) can now discuss scripture without having to keep a watchful eye on the skies. And on the subject of witnessing, I don't think he was expecting to be met with something as liberal as The Theology of the Gerbil™ in these latitudes.
But at least we will have something to remember our visitors by. One of the parents crapped down the chimney into the dinning room. Thanks.
No comments:
Post a Comment