What I said in confession today

Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.

Do not fret, my child.  Who have you sinned against?

[*Thinks: I think you mean 'against whom have you sinned', Father, but we'll let that go for now.]  I've sinned against Tenby, Father, which is a nice little seaside town in Wales that never did me any harm.  I said before I went on holiday that it would be boring and that all there was there was an Old Wall and fish and chip shops and mackerel fishing which didn't even start until May and that I would rather be blogging in a Library anyway.  [Repressed sob.]

You're distressed, child.  Here you are.  I'm passing you a tissue through the grille.


Thank you, Father.  [Sniff. Blow. Sniff, sniff, blow.]

My child.  Where did you learn to blow your nose in a quickstep rhythm?


I suffered a lot of colds as a child but my mother still made me go to ballroom dancing classes even when I was ill.

Oh, I see.  Now, child, are you saying that you have realised the error of your ways?


Yes.  [Sniff.]  You see, I went to Tenby and ... and ...  I enjoyed myself.

A little louder, my child.  


I enjoyed myself.

I'm sorry - you'll have to speak up.  This grille is dusty.  I must have a word with the cleaner.


I enjoyed myself, Father.

But that's wonderful!  That's what you go on holiday for!  Tell me some more about the lovely things you did.


I read a whole newspaper every day.

I see.  And ....


I ate a rum and raisin icecream approximately every three hours.

Er ... newspapers and icecream.  Lovely, lovely.  Anything else?


I read five books.  One after the other.  Boom.  Boom.  Boom.   Or maybe, book, book, book.

Books.  Good, good.  And did you go for some long walks along the coastal path?


No.  But I said goodbye to my husband nicely when he set off for some.  I said I hoped he would have a nice time.

That's great, that's great.  Did you go on a boat?  I hear there is a lovely island there with monks on it.  I'm sure you'd have wanted to visit the monks.


No.  I get seasick.  No disrespect to monks.  But I said goodbye nicely to my husband when he set off on the boat trips.  And I bought a postcard with a picture of a saint on it and sent it to a friend.

Bless you, my child, bless you, for keeping the faith while you were on holiday.  And what other holiday activities did you partake of?  Did you go on the beach?


[*Thinks* I think you mean, 'Of what other holiday activities did you partake?' but we'll let that one go, too.]  No, Father, but there was a great cafe overlooking the beach which sold pieces of lemon cake about four feet square, so I sat in there and watched everyone else eating home-made cheese sandwiches with bits of beach in them.

No swimming?

I tried the swimming costume on before I went but it got stuck at the knees and refused to go further, so, no, Father.  I did go to an aquarium, though, and see fish swimming.  That was quite tiring, as the aquarium was up a hill.

And what about the blogging in the Library?


I went to the Library and it blocked all the blogs saying it didn't allow access to chat rooms as they were unsuitable.  I was gutted.  My husband had to buy me another icecream to help me get over it even though it had only been 30 minutes since the last one.

Well, maybe the break from blogging was a good thing, my child.  You seem to have had a lovely time, even without it.


I know.  It was a revelation, Father.  Maybe not as good as St John's in the Bible ...


No, I suppose not, child ... 


Maybe nearly as good, though?

No, child, that would not really be an appropriate thing to say.  You realising that blogging is not essential for life is not quite the same as what happened to St John on Patmos.


Well, never mind.  It was a good revelation anyway, even if it doesn't get a capital R.  And it was sunny all week, Father.  That makes it all so much worse.  I can't forgive myself for being so horrible to Tenby.  It was so nice to me.  What can I do in penance?

Ah, now, child.  That's difficult.  Not many people ask how they can be forgiven for insulting a Welsh seaside town.  Let me just look it up in the index.  All I have here is 'insulting a Welsh person'.  Did you do any of that?


I don't think so, Father, although if the lady on the bus who went to sleep with her mouth wide open and her legs apart was Welsh, I wasn't very nice about her.

Let's use that one, then.  Right.  I need you say three Hail Marys.


Three Hail Marys.

Er ... no, no.  Not like that.  One after the other. 


Hail ...

No, no.  You don't do this very often, do you?  You must do this when you get home, when you are praying on your own.


Oh, okay.

And then I think you should write a blog post - do you know how to do that?


Yes, Father.

And tell everyone how sorry you feel about being horrid about Tenby.


Yes, Father.  I will.

Good, my child.  Do you feel better?


I do, Father.

Great, because I happen to have booked myself a fortnight in Tenby next month.   Where do you get the rum and raisin icecreams?