Invitations. They keep coming in by the shoal. Here’s one from the Bishops’ Conference of Scotland. I’m cordially invited to a celebration to mark the seventh anniversary of the election of His Holiness Pope Benedict PP XVI. In my diary already.
It’s at St Mary’s Metropolitan Cathedral in Broughton Street, just strides away from where the lady in her yellow itsy-bitsy parades exactly a month later.
Main celebrant, no surprise, will be His Eminence Cardinal Keith Patrick O’Brien. His Excellency Archbishop Antonio Mennini, Apostolic Nuncio to Great Britain, will also be present.
I’ll be there in requisite lounge suit if the celebrants pray for a great Britain. The once “great’’ Britain. Alas, the nation’s beyond redemption at the whim of today’s politicians. Would a prayer be in order at St Mary’s? Hae ma doots.
Can it be true?
. . . that they’ll soon be asking 55 pence for a second class stamp? Fifty-five pence! That’ll take some licking.
. . . That Pippa Middleton, kid sister of our beloved Kate, finished a praiseworthy 412nd in a 56-mile cross-country ski marathon in Sweden? Pippa, the entire nation’s proud of you. Your big sister’s positively ecstatic.
Pippa did it in seven hours 11 minutes and if we weren’t living in such drastic times we’d be holding street parties across the land in celebration
Bad beavers. I swear that was one I saw roaming the Water of Leith by the Dean Village this week. Scientists are gnawing on their nails because the birth rate of the creatures in Scotland is soaring and they could be carrying a parasite horrendous to humans, dam them. So hang on to your guinea pig and forget about bringing a beaver into the house.