Exodus!

     

Apologies that we’ve been away from the Blogosphere (whatever that is) for so long.  It has been a very exciting few days.

After much mewing, praying, pleading and campaigning, the Vicar finally gave in and fulfilled her promise to release us from the Vicarage into The Great Outdoors.  Aided and abetted by the Fab Four (Head Server, Cellarer, Webmeister and Churchwarden), we took our first steps out of the patio doors and into the Vicarage garden. 

Of course, the Vicar wasn’t going to be defeated that easily, and she employed a couple of knavish tricks to try to dissuade us from the long walk to freedom.  First she set up some sort of wind machine to try and blow us off course as we emerged from the door.  No sooner had we mastered that ordeal, when we discovered that she had put some weird springy green stuff all over the floor.  It took us a while to work out how to walk on it, but eventually Martha discovered that it was quite good to eat. 

After much exploration in and out of the undergrowth (clearly the Vicar is as assiduous a gardener as she is a housekeeper), we were pleased to discover a couple of little holes in the fence just big enough for us to squeeze through.  At this point the Vicar was overcome by a fit of jealousy as to our petite and svelte frames, and decided to try and prevent us from having a look.  But we were way ahead of her!  Using a clever pincer movement, Mary distracted the Churchwarden by sticking her head through the hole at the back of the garden whilst Martha gave the Vicar the slip and wriggled through the hole at the front.  To be honest, the neighbour’s garden wasn’t that exciting, so Martha kindly decided to return via a different hole and consented to be re-admitted to the Vicarage garden through the gate.  Meanwhile, Mary took the Churchwarden on a little tour of the compost heap and pigsty in case he ever wants to stay the night.

All in all, it was a fabulous adventure, and we were quite tired and hungry by the time we went back in.  So we ate a hearty meal and then sloped off for a nice snooze, thereby escaping the Vicar’s pitiful attempts at cake-making.  We know the Vicar and the Fab Four must have been hungry too, as the Head Server cooked her own bodyweight in pasta and later they all went off to have dinner at a restaurant called Generation X.  We think they must have been quite tired as well, because when they finally returned from Generation X, the Vicar and the Head Server joined us for a little nap on the hall carpet.

What a fun day it was!  We’re very grateful to the Cellarer for recording it all on his camera for posterity, though it may be a while before the Vicar forgives him for getting a snap of her in her apron.  We are sure that God approves of us going out, as the same day, there was a wondrous sign at Wembley when Pompey won the semi-final, and the next day, there was a lovely miracle when all this white cold stuff fell from the sky and settled on the ground outside (and apparently that hardly ever happens in Gosport). 

Even the Vicar must have realised that these things were signs from the Lord, as on Sunday night she met up with the Parish Walsingham Cell, no doubt to talk about something very holy and edifying.

Really, though, she needn’t have worried about us. 

Jesus and Mary were looking after us all the time.

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4 responses to “Exodus!

  1. winning through

    You both made it into the wild world of Gosport, and there is no stopping you now. Well done. Pestering will always work on a soft touch, and I know you will not give in.

  2. The Vicar says she’s not a soft touch.
    We just think she’s soft in the head.

  3. Everything-but-the-pope

    Thankfully, the hole in the garden fence leads into Christchurch parish. Don’t stray too far, girls, or you’ll be in Forton parish and those rough cats from the Forton Crew might recruit you. You really don’t want to know what their initiation ceremonies consist of….

  4. You are forgetting that we come from Camberwell.
    We is kittins from da hood.

    We think you may be, as George Dubya might say, misunderestimating us…

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