The Jones Baptism

The ceremony was odd. I could handle that it was in my old church, although I was a little perturbed by the fact that my old school joined onto it. Was it seventeen years since I’d used that door last? Fifteen? Weirder still, the minister used to be my scoutmaster. The past was dripping down the walls, it seemed. But not the same – was this room always this small? Surely not.

And who was the Godfather? Well, there were two - Owen and me.

Curry at Steele Road

Beth is getting bigger. Due at Christmas, but she thinks the doctors have underestimated the duration of the pregnancy by a few weeks; they think that the baby will come three weeks later than she does. I filled them in on the plan for Japan, and talked about Dad’s AA meetings with Owen. “I’ve been to them too,” he said, “and they’re really good. Tough work, like, but good.” He put down his Strongbow as he spoke. “But they only work if you want them to work. If you want to quit.” Quite.