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Santa's on his way!

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Ha ha!

Hey, that’s the very lad who lived under our bed for a good ten years. So that’s where he’s got to, eh?

We never had the wee light in the family homestead - although with the benefit of hindsight we were clearly lightweights in the iconography stakes. ;)
 
Now I know what to get you for your birthday!!! I don't think I know of ANY Catholic homes that didn't have one of those. Your very Holiness was weighed by how many Sacred Heart pictures you had, how many photos of your relatives in religious orders and and how much you gave weekly to the church (we rated low; those darn-crazy single uncles and aunties refused to become priests and nuns and ruined our chances of austere photos in the parlour)
 
Now we were complete nonstarters with the rellies in the clergy creds, although The DA’s Da did six years in the seminary before getting ‘troubled be the doubts’ and subsequently bailing on the whole thing.

Had he not done there’d be no Jonny round these here parts. So if you’re looking to blame someone then it’s my paternal grandad
 
I was always a faint-er, and my favourite time to faint was when the basket was being passed around. Thankfully the explosion of coins clattering into the air disguised the loud "thunk-thunk" as I headbutted the wooden pews.
 
Hope we're all being good girls and boys as Santa's on his way and he knows if you're not.

I'm certainly being a good boy as I want him to bring my nice new reference monitors and slicing mandolin, not a lump of coal and horse crap.

See him at work now in real time as he flies around the globe on his sleigh. If you have young kids or grandkids in your family they'd likely love this site which runs every year.


And no, I certainly haven't spent the last 15 minutes watching Santa's progress.
Thanks Jonny Merry Christmas
 
Church cushions?! Whatever would they be??:rolling-on-the-floor-laughing:

But the wine was WINE. (what does that say about Catholics?! No cushions, but excellent wine = priorities!!!)
When I say cushion, it was more of a Hessian bag with padding. Rough little blighters, they were. Mustn't let the congregation get too soft. We had a neighbour (a Brit living in Switzers funny enough) who would sleep soundly through most of the sermon until the (non) wine was served. Then he woke up and started queuing like everyone else.
 
Our church was so austere that we had to kneel on blocks of wood with six inch nails pointing upwards into our knees.
 
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