My last blog entry got lost in cyberspace due to a library computer crash. Here it is again:
"Excuse me sir, is this a nunnery?"
Well, I made it to the party in the convent/nunnery (Apparently nunnery is the ye olde word for a convent, but to my mind it has conjured up images of a shrubbery with nuns planted in it at regular intervals).
The party was a bonding session for a charity that deals with supporting Asylum Seekers which Katie is/was involved with. I think this must make us eligble to wear the "Hated By The Daily Mail T Shirts" I head about recently in the Guardian.
Whilst I was there I took the opportunity to nose around a bit. To be honest I was expecting some surreal "Father Ted" scenario. For people who have taken a vow of poverty, the nuns seemed to have a pretty good stock of wine, crime fiction (and bizzarely) pirate CDs. However I was mildly disappointed to discover that the nuns no longer wear habits. I decided to do a little digging and find out what really makes nuns tick. Sister Kathleen told me that she had no peace until she made the decison to enter the order as did the other nun I spoke to (who's name I unfortunately forgot). Neither of them seemed to have any regrets about their choices and carried on with that steely eyed determination and warm hospitality that only older women are capable of. That and the apparent belief that to change the world all you really have to do is provide free cups of tea (or alcohol) to any stranger that crosses your threshold. I like old people. I like tea and alcohol too.