11th August 2007
Sunday walked in with the morning, and I knew I had to walk out at 9 am for Sunday Mass. That I just had to do.
"It's not a ritual Gary," I remember Mother Dearest saying.
"You are going to meet The King," I remember Sister Dearest to that adding.
"Oh yes, oh yes," I remember saying, "I know I know."
"Well, then don't just laze there," suggested Sister Dearest, "Go and buy breads. We all have to have breakfast you know."
So I took her suggestion and walked three staircases down, crossed the road, stood in front of the shop, and held my bag open. I did not have to say anything. The shopkeeper did not have to ask anything. All he had to do was put the breads in the bag. He knew how many, and I knew he knew. That done, I retraced my steps, landed near the wash basin, and employed my hands to brush my teeth.
"Hurry up," said Mother Dearest as my hands were about to resign and let the brush fall, "You don't have all day."
"Well, I wish they had a 12 pm Mass." I had managed to convince my fingers to stay put on the brush handle.
"Oh why 12 pm?! They can have it whenever you feel like. All you have to do is order."
"You mean join the order?"
"You know what I mean."
"Oh yes, actually you know what? I can make it for the evening Mass."
"Oh yes!," cut in Sister Dearest, "You know what? I can see that will not happen."
"Well why?"
"It's at 5 'o' clock in the evening. Do you even know where you are at 5?"
"Of course, I am-"
"-in the bed, snoring!"
"That's not true."
"Then what is? That you sleep until 6 post-lunch?"
"Look I am getting late to Church. I don't have time to argue with you."
"Ha ha ha! Say that you have nothing to say."
"Of course I have something to say."
"Oh come on Gary , just admit it. You've lost this argument."
"No no no no no."
"Yes yes yes yes yes."
"Will you please shut up and get out of here?" - This was Mother Dearest. - "See the time."
So we saw the time.
"It's 8:30."
"So?"
"Haven't you two to dress up?"
"Oh yes," said Sister Dearest.
"Oh no," was my reply.
"What you mean no?," Mother Dearest snapped.
"Well, I just have to put a shirt. I think those jeans will do fine."
"Don't talk rubbish!"
"What don't talk rubbish Mama?" - I was in the gallery, hunting for my towel. - "Those jeans look marvellous."
"Shut up! Marvellous it seems! Why can't you wear anything decent?"
"Oh you mean I must wear those high-waist pants of yore?"
"Listen Gary !," thundered Mother Dearest, "We are going to Church. We go to worship the King. You too go there to worship the King. And not to worship Versace! And as long as I live here, I will not have you wear those rags to Church!"
And so it came to pass that we:
Sunday walked in with the morning, and I knew I had to walk out at 9 am for Sunday Mass. That I just had to do.
"It's not a ritual Gary," I remember Mother Dearest saying.
"You are going to meet The King," I remember Sister Dearest to that adding.
"Oh yes, oh yes," I remember saying, "I know I know."
"Well, then don't just laze there," suggested Sister Dearest, "Go and buy breads. We all have to have breakfast you know."
So I took her suggestion and walked three staircases down, crossed the road, stood in front of the shop, and held my bag open. I did not have to say anything. The shopkeeper did not have to ask anything. All he had to do was put the breads in the bag. He knew how many, and I knew he knew. That done, I retraced my steps, landed near the wash basin, and employed my hands to brush my teeth.
"Hurry up," said Mother Dearest as my hands were about to resign and let the brush fall, "You don't have all day."
"Well, I wish they had a 12 pm Mass." I had managed to convince my fingers to stay put on the brush handle.
"Oh why 12 pm?! They can have it whenever you feel like. All you have to do is order."
"You mean join the order?"
"You know what I mean."
"Oh yes, actually you know what? I can make it for the evening Mass."
"Oh yes!," cut in Sister Dearest, "You know what? I can see that will not happen."
"Well why?"
"It's at 5 'o' clock in the evening. Do you even know where you are at 5?"
"Of course, I am-"
"-in the bed, snoring!"
"That's not true."
"Then what is? That you sleep until 6 post-lunch?"
"Look I am getting late to Church. I don't have time to argue with you."
"Ha ha ha! Say that you have nothing to say."
"Of course I have something to say."
"Oh come on Gary , just admit it. You've lost this argument."
"No no no no no."
"Yes yes yes yes yes."
"Will you please shut up and get out of here?" - This was Mother Dearest. - "See the time."
So we saw the time.
"It's 8:30."
"So?"
"Haven't you two to dress up?"
"Oh yes," said Sister Dearest.
"Oh no," was my reply.
"What you mean no?," Mother Dearest snapped.
"Well, I just have to put a shirt. I think those jeans will do fine."
"Don't talk rubbish!"
"What don't talk rubbish Mama?" - I was in the gallery, hunting for my towel. - "Those jeans look marvellous."
"Shut up! Marvellous it seems! Why can't you wear anything decent?"
"Oh you mean I must wear those high-waist pants of yore?"
"Listen Gary !," thundered Mother Dearest, "We are going to Church. We go to worship the King. You too go there to worship the King. And not to worship Versace! And as long as I live here, I will not have you wear those rags to Church!"
And so it came to pass that we:
- Mother Dearest in her finest,
- Sister Dearest in her best,
- And I - forced into my formal best,
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