Father, is that you?

"Hello Father - are you there?" Several phonecalls today started that way because I had a sore throat yesterday, and by this evening I'd more or less lost my voice. I had to skip my mini-homily at St Paul's this morning. However, as I was feeling pretty sorry for myself by late morning, I still went off to attend my priests' gathering at Chepstow, even though I didn't have much to say... The parish priest there, Fr Barry English, is both one of my former curates and a distant relation. The subject of my former assistants came up, because the lads like to pull my leg about how many of them have left the priesthood. I always point out that none of them left when they were actually with me, as I would be down their throat. Whenever Fr James hears about my record he looks strangely anxious! Actually priests who leave is a subject of course of great seriousness, which like many such matters, you sometimes need to laugh about. Anyway I think I'll have another Strepsil.

ps Did anyone see that dreadful pants business on the Apprentice?