Nothing much got past my Dad… he had rows of the Western Catholic Calendar in his bookcase to check when I was missing Mass.
Which I did today… and I’m only hoping that he’s not telling The BIg Man although He sees everything anyway, a bit like my Dad.
I did get up for 10am Mass today, albeit I cut it a bit fine… the trouble was I got lost. Obviously.
I’m still getting used to my new town, North Berwick, near Edinburgh.
And I can find it if I set out from my Outlaws where we were living when we first turfed up here a fortnight ago.
But not from my new demesne, near the North Berwick sign on the main road.
I also missed Mass last week in the Czech Republic.
But my Dear Old Mum who is still alive and kicking, going to Mass, and telling everyone what they’re doing wrong, says: ‘You don’t have to go when you’re on holiday.’
It’s just that I do… my mantra is go to where the locals pray and play.
I caught up with the one we know better, Martin Luther, in Dresden Dresden’s renaissance.
I’ve also been on pilgrimage.. to Lourdes The Lourdes prayer, Fatima Secret Portugal and Medjugorje What’s the story, Medjugorje? Wouldn’t you like to know.
Where I went to Mass every day and wore out my Rosary beads.
Do I protest too much?
It’s not just Christian Masses though… I seek out Mosques in Istanbul Wham bam, thank you Hamam and Sarajevo.
And synagogues and Jewish history in the Czech Republic and Amsterdam Pictures of Amsterdam.
So, I’m ready for my penance… and, yes, I know the tariff off by heart by now. Three Our Fathers and three Hail Marys.
MEET YOU IN THE PEWS