Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

Ray Gosling mourns the loss of the old ways ...

When I was young I loved incense and candles, surpluses. And the Virgin Mary, I couldn't get enough of. But I've forgotten. Lapsed. And churches have changed. I know everything changes. But I am so out of touch, religiously, now.

I got struck how much out of touch from my landlady where I stay when I have to be in London. She like me grew up with loads of old religion, but has long lapsed - all that. But it comes back to you as you get older you remember. But not necessarily correctly.

Well, my landlady, Yvette has had this cat for donkey's years, and right now Cat is ill. Cat's not in pain, not off its food, just got a sore on its belly. It's not nice. But it doesn't seem to trouble Cat at the moment. Yvette says "Please, find a nice little St. Francis if you can and light a candle."

Then the thought strikes, it is March. Lent. When you're supposed to give some pleasure up. In church they cover the ornaments. Statues and crosses are all covered up with black covers, so how will I find St. Francis? I don't want to pray to the wrong saint. "Oh put your hand up his skirt!", says Yvette "under the covers you'll be able to feel. There'll be the animals, halo of birds round Francis' head, the dove on his shoulder, lovely colours didn't they used to be! And there'll be sheep at his feet.

The man in the Roman Catholic cathedral was not a priest, not a curate, not wearing a dog-collar. He's a functionary like a verger in a cassock. I says to him "Nothing's covered up!" He looks at me "We don't do that anymore." "Like you don't eat fish on Fridays!" I snapped back. He looks at me like "what antediluvian anorak have we here?" I said, "I can't find St Francis." He beckons, leads me to this plain, brown figure. Long brown robe. "Where's the animals,the red robin, the halo of finches and tits, and doves on his shoulder and sheep at his feet?"

The functionary is exasperated, he just puts his hand out "That is St Francis", and leaves me and my sentimental memory; politically, religiously incorrect. I did say a prayer for the sake or Her and Cat to this de-flowered St. Francis. Then I had a good old talking to, to the Virgin Mary, I can tell you, and lit her a candle. But very dissatisfied, I left.

Μύ