a confession


I stole something last week. I've stolen before from the same place. It's not that I am inherently evil - it just happens. There I am in the dentist's waiting room (my appointment is 10:20 but it's already 10:30 and there is still someone else waiting to go in before me) so I'm going to have to read something. My choice is Woman & Home, Caravan & Camper, Readers Digest, Private Eye and Motorcycle Monthly. Most of them are ripped and all of them are very old. I have to go with RD or PE (no one actually reads that other tat do they?) and after scanning several issues of each I find something that looks half interesting. Here's the problem. I'm just getting into the story - corruption in high office (labour council leader evicts elderly tennants from their homes and makes personal fortune from dodgy property development scheme) or heroism when faced with impossible odds (I was the sole survivor of a plane crash in the Himalayas - 437 dead) and the patient in front of me comes out from her treatment. They will be calling me in as soon as the dental nurse has washed the blood off the instruments and I will never finish the story. Twenty seconds to decide what to do. As casually as possible I slip the magazine into my coat pocket - just before the white coat calls me in for my treatment. No one else seems to have noticed - in fact I'm worryingly good at this. I resolve to take it back next time I go - that way I haven't really stolen anything, but I must admit that I've never made good on that promise yet!

Today's photo is from St. Anne's Church (St. Anne's Square, Manchester) and I'm afraid that it resulted in a bit of unpleasantness. I was looking for a photo for this year's Christmas card a couple of weeks ago and called in at the interesting little church whilst I was attending an e-Learning conference nearby. I had to miss a keynote speech by a high salaried dignitary from one of the government e-quangos, but it's never easy to stay awake during these 'motivational' presentations so I went to church instead! I wanted a photo of some stained glass and was grabbing a few shots when an appallingly rude churchwarden shouted (for all to hear) "It might have been nice if you'd asked permission to take photographs". Isn't it a great feeling when you know that you can make an arrogant prat look very stupid? "I did ask permission". "Who did you ask?", enquired the appallingly rude churchwarden. "The lady in the pews at the back", I helpfully explained, pointing to the lady in the pews at the back. With a mixture of embarrassment and contempt my accuser strode off. "It might have been nice if you'd apologised", I suggested, as the appallingly rude churchwarden disappeared.

Did I get my Christmas card photo? Can't tell you yet!