I write this post quietly, trying not to awake the sleeping beast of Marlon Brando impressions that Mr. Devil Duck has been doing ever since The Idiot and the Barmaid asked us this weekend to be godparents to their new daughter. I'm like, "You want to find out what it REALLY feels like to have cotton balls shoved in your mouth, then by all means, keep it up Mr. Corleone."We have the distinct impression that we are the most stable people that they know. We have this impression because we know an awful lot of the same people. I'm not 100% sure that it's not some sweet, misguided attempt to allow us to live vicariously as parents though them but being who they are, we'll take love for love and humbly accepted.
Mr. Devil Duck asked, "So does this mean we have to bail her out of jail and stuff?"
"Of course." The Idiot said, a little too quickly for my liking.
Neither Mr. DD or I have any religious convictions. I grew up in a pacifist church and took the best bits of their teachings to heart without hanging on to the concept of an overarching diety. Mr. DD is a true-blue British agnostic, raised by a mother who's white hot hatred for nuns was forged in the fire of convent school. (Where she was sent at 5 after calling her mother a "bloody old bitch")
Brits in general don't go in much for religion as a rule. They even describe themselves as a "post church society" and generally only end up in churches to be "hatched, matched and dispatched." Christening and godparents are nice traditions that they carry on regardless.
I suppose this means that I shall have to find a hat. (Hats! Love hats!)
3 comments:
I'm still entirely convinced that I was born on the wrong continent. I am truly a Briton at heart.
And that has nothing to do with my bizarre obsession with Stephen Merchant. Ok, it has *something* to do with it.
I too was a closet Anglophile before moving across the pond. You can't beat a good Britsh bodice ripper. :)
Good to shop !
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