A visit to Il Rettore furnished me with something to post about at a rather thin time for news. My mantelpiece of religious tat has been joined by an image of Papa Francesco, eternally waving his benediction across the living room - at least when the sunlight penetrates to the far wall sufficiently to charge him up and set him wobbling from one side to the other. I didn't think it really looked that much like him, though Il Rettore commented that it couldn't really be anyone else; yes, I considered, it may be the dressing all in white that does that.
Il Rettore is starting to plan how his retirement may pan out, and although mine is much further away my mind does occasionally turn in that direction too. As I walked down the road from the railway station in Lamford towards the rectory, a place I was once so familiar with, I reflected that I didn't like it a great deal, and that applies to the whole of Surrey, even though there are some very picturesque corners. Dorset, however, perpetually summons, waiting in green patience.
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