Povey Prattle

Re-incarnation is a rather dubious theory.    After all, what is the point of coming back if you cannot remember or learn from the experiences in your “previous life”. But if we do come back, please may I be: 1.     A Beadle, or 2.   The Custos of Winchester Cathedral, or 3.   The Ceremonarius. These were some of the “J.K.Rowling” type figures who participated in the enthronement of the Archbishop of Canterbury the other day.  My preference would be the “Custos” –  with such rich   opportunities to use bad language. 4.   Whatever else please don’t let me come back as a Republican. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fast Phil was my barber for a few years when I lived in Cambridge, MA. Here is an article about him from a local paper. http://www.wickedlocal.com/cambridge/features/x1959360528/BUSINESS-Catching-up-with-Fast-Phil#axzz2OP0NxH9J -------------------------------------------------

The soothing hot springs at Arenal Volcano.  (Picture via my friend Ed Ultryo)

Justin Welby.  Justin Beiber.  J.K. Rowling.  J.R.R.Tolkien I have just glanced at the Order of Service for the enthronement of Justin Welby as Archbishop of Canterbury. In fact there were two enthronements:   the first as Bishop of Canterbury; the second as the Archbishop of the Province of Canterbury (church talk) and the Primate of All England (more church talk ). If you’d like for me to explain all this on your death bed my fee will be $5000 (pro-rated for inflation) plus first class air fare. Anyway, dear and sweet Justin W elby  , (well meaning as I believe him to be)   has inherited the hot seat of Anglican Christianity without so much as a campaign, a primary election, a manifesto, a vetting by lay christian leaders, a measurement of his body fat index --  or any other such scrutiny.   He will be like Justin Beiber - thrust  into the spotlight of celebrity with no training, and no experience of dealing with the paparazzi, or the yellow press, or even of Fox

From “Joy in the Morning” ( published 1963) by Betty Smith (author of the fabulous book “ A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.) In “Joy in the Morning ”   (set first  in “an up to date college town in the mid west”  in 1927 )   Carl aged 20 and Annie aged 18 have just  gotten married before a local judge.  Neither has the consent of a parent. They are both from Brooklyn.  Carl is more worldly wise than Annie.  Both are virgins.  Annie, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge about sex is utterly shocked to discover that Carl is also ignorant and in-experienced.   She had thought that at aged 20 he had most certainly lost his virginity. They fumble through Carl’s aggression (he almost rapes his bride), through Annie’s fear after this scary experience, to the mutual bliss which they experience in bed. Later in the book there is this dialogue: Carl asks Annie “Happy?”. She replies “Contented” “When are you going to start being happy?” “Oh, I was happy this morning when I got off

Some silliness in a cartoon. It has more than a grain of truth. (I do not endorse it as a way of life, but I have experienced it in the company of retired Lesbian and Gay friends here in SRQ.) (I know that it's also true for s traight  "friendships")

I cannot remember if I was in my late teens and riding a motor scooter, or if I was in my early twenties and driving a car. I do remember that I was pulled over for speeding somewhere in south Gloucestershire.  The policeman was not convinced by my assertion that I was a bastard son of the Duke of Beaufort, and was on my way to Badminton House to visit the ailing Duchess.  No sir. So I was hauled before a very strict Beak at Staple Hill Magistrates Court and  found guilty. At first he sentenced me to be hanged, with time off for good behaviour. When I pointed out that would be a perfectly  wasteful  use of rope, he  sentenced  me to be flogged and then indentured to the Royal Navy for seven years instead. He relented after his lunch break.  He made me promise that I would never again impersonate a bastard , and issued a small fine. And in all these more than forty years of motoring (no one says “motoring” these days, so I used the word instead of “driving”).