|Praying with potatoes: How it was then and how it is today...|
I often pray with potatoes as a matter of fact. I go outside for five minutes when I am steaming my Vivaldis, have a cigarette and ask the Lord that they might be done soon. Perhaps miraculously - though I cannot say for sure until a Vatican investigation is completed - after these sacred five minutes, when I get back into the flat they are ready to be served up. Praying with potatoes: don't knock it until you've tried it. I might be praying with potatoes during the speeches by keynote speakers like Rowan Williams and others. Oh what joy this event will be. Praying with potatoes, eh? The harvest is rich, but the labourers are few. Surely there is no link between the overhang of the Conry years, this kind of Diocesan Jubilee crassness and a local dearth of vocations. Whoever would even think such a thing must be out of his mind. This is post numero uno of our Festival 50 preparations. I hope that the other posts are more king ed-ifying.