Sunday 6 November 2016
Three pews ahead of me is a slightly swarthy man, holding in his arms a little girl dressed all in red who is probably approaching her second birthday. She is upright and alert, looking back in my general direction though not looking at me; and she is wearing glasses with thick plastic lenses. I don’t remember seeing father or daughter before.
Miss NL jr reads the lesson — for the first time AFAIK. She seems under-rehearsed.
At the coffee-table in the church hall, Mrs Cash tells me about her senior daughter, who (thanks to an anomaly in pay-scales) is earning £10,000 less than a colleague who is doing an equivalent job. Only afterwards do I reflect that people in Mrs Cash’s position in society are used to the system conforming itself to their interests and wishes. When it doesn’t, and clearly won’t be doing so any time soon, they are outraged.
I approach Julian and the father and daughter I saw earlier, and I exchange a few words with them.
Zeke’s mother tells me that he is dairy-intolerant.
BLEKE 4 