10 October 2022
A Bit of This, and a Bit of that
Dear and gentle reader: I find October to usually be a very busy month. I'm in the habit of taking my annual retreat in October, which I have done, (yes, it was good, but I'm so glad to be back home with my cats). It's also the month in which we parish priests are pelted with petty duties from the diocese - the annual "Mass Attendance Count", various pro-life organisation requests for money, scrambling for volunteers (which, if you're in a rural parish is hard to do, since it's harvest time), and add on top of it all the continuous irritating stream of emails from the diocese concerning the bishop's pet programme, and the Eucharistic "revival" (what are we, Pentecostals?). Unfortunately, it is also the month in which our annual Priests Assembly Days occurs. Few things irk me more than having to endure the pious blather of my brethren, most of whom seem to be unable to talk about anything unless it's sport, religion, or church gossip. They are, on the whole, a boring and boorish lot, well-meaning, but still, dull as dishwater! Nonetheless, I do love October, since the autumn weather is here in force, the foliage is turning, and Halloween is soon to be upon us!
Speaking of Halloween, there's the usual complaint from "catholic" fundamentalists that it's "satanic", that children (and adults) shouldn't dress up as monsters, ghosts or devils, but rather saints, and that the entire thing just shouldn't be celebrated. What fiddle-faddle! Halloween is at heart a Catholic celebration. Death and evil are mocked, as they should be, the dead are remembered, and hopefully, prayed for, and giving out treats is simply charitable. If you hear such poppycock from a fundie-catholic (who looks like he or she is about to bonk you on the head with a catechism or large statue of Our Lady), then run away from them. They are silly; they are ignorant; they are modern day pharisees. Put up your spooky decor, carve a jack-o-lantern, and give candy to the wee ghosties and ghoulies who come to your door, and act horrified at the sight of them when they ring your doorbell! Enjoy it all, gentle reader, for you are not in league with the forces of darkness.
Dear reader, if you are like me, you followed the various ceremonies which were set in motion by the death of Her Late Majesty, Queen Elizabeth. They were a beautiful and moving tribute to a great lady who unflaggingly gave herself in service to the people of her realms. The accession of His Majesty, King Charles III, was equally moving. This poor man, who had just lost his beloved mother, put duty before his own need, and for ten days, rushed from Balmoral, where the Queen had died, to London, where he addressed the realms and Commonwealth, met with both Houses of Parliament, then traveled up to Edinburgh to take part in a memorial service for the Queen, and met with the Scottish Parliament; then down to Cardiff to take part in another memorial service and meet with the Welsh Assembly, then over to Belfast to once again pray at a memorial service and meet with the Northern Irish Assembly, and then finally back to London to take part in the obsequies of the Queen. Whist doing all of this, the King had to manage his own grief and loss, as well as dealing with the familial stresses, caused for the most part by the wayward Prince Andrew, and, of course, the Sussexes. None of us know all the intimate family details of the ruckus, but I unashamedly admit that I wish the "Harkles" would disappear into the anonymity they so publicly admit they want. We shall have to wait and see what King Charles does with these two. Personally, I hope he strips them and their progeny of all titles and honours. Harry's a man-child who needs professional therapy in helping him deal with the death of his mother, which is at the heart of his messiness. I sincerely hope he seeks it, gets it, and can heal by it. He's also vulnerable due it it, as well as being thick-as-a-brick. Meg, or as I prefer to call her, The Harridan, has taken advantage of these weaknesses in order to bolster her own image and lust for fame and deference. I must admit, gentle reader, that I did indeed enjoy a good dose of schadenfreude in observing how the other members of the Royal Family were ever so politely cold to her. Poor little whinger! That won't stop the venomous narcissist from continuing to drag witless Harry down her path of infamy. Maybe that poor dupe will come to realise soon that she is nothing but trouble for him, and his unfortunate children.
Lastly, I think that this candle, one of the four surrounding the bier of Her Late Majesty in Westminster Abbey during the funeral liturgy, should be awarded the Royal Victorian Order by the King. The RVO is an honour and knighthood awarded by the Sovereign for distinguished personal service to the monarch. This lowly candle obscured The Harridan from view of the camera aimed at the Royal Family. If you think that such a view was just by chance, think again, gentle reader. The BBC knew well the scope of vision, and no doubt, the Royal Courtiers who arranged the seating knew this too. Bravo to those who arranged such, and bravo to the candle!
Methinks that's enough for now, dear and gentle reader. I hope you enjoy the cool crisp autumn as I do. Stay well and safe, and as ever, gentle reader,
God bless!
Father P
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