From www.nevergoeswithoutsaying.blogspot.com written by MummyMaps writer, Sarah F.
The vicar called round unexpectedly last Thursday afternoon. The vicar was never going to call round expectedly to this house, since we’re not in the habit of expecting vicars here. And anyway, in uber-Catholic Ireland, a protestant minister at the door is only slightly less unlikely than a vampire at the door (and that’s only because we all know vampires come in through the windows. D’oh).
Anyway, imagine the scene. The vicar rings the doorbell. A man answers the door.
“Is this the Franklin household?” asks the vicar.
“Yes”, says the man, clearly at home here. “I’m not a Franklin, though. Sarah’s upstairs showering”
Sarah (why yes, I am in third person this evening; does my bum look big in it?) isn’t quite in the shower yet, so she belts down the stairs to see who’s in the hallway. She is dishevelled (OK, even more than usual) and panting, her hair plastered becomingly to her cheeks with a winning mixture of sweat and rain.
(I’d been out running, OK? And our neighbour friend was watching the kids as part of our weekly swap. Honestly).
“Hello, vicar,” she says, trying to look as if this sort of thing happens every day. More….
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