Well that was a mistake.
"Honesty", it turns out, is not the best policy. Not on the pitch with the Policy XI. Not even on the Policy FC bench, with hopes of coming on when "Tactful Subject Avoidance" pulls a hamstring. "Honesty", I have discovered, is six rows back, wearing a suit, just thankful it was invited to travel for the away game.
So we had three people wept all the way through Filling-up of Beakers this evening. They're normally so cheerful when at Moot House events. But apparently crying all the time is what they do at home.
And my sermon was barely audible, punctuated as it was by shouts of "liberal drivel!" from Bernice, and cat-calls of "shocking, intolerant fundamentalism!" from Daphne.
At the "Embarrassed Half-hug of Peace", Tadley decked Rancewind, said he'd been wanting to do that for ages. Followed up by him and Snowmaud indulging in quite a prolonged and, for everyone else, rather embarrassing romantic clinch. In the end, we put an altar frontal over them so we didn't have to see any more. Odd thing, that. We don't even have an altar. Wonder why we have such a comprehensive collection of frontals?
And then as everybody left, Stacey Bushes said to me,
"I'm sure it was a lovely service. Slept right through it. Shame you have such a boring voice."
I was going to remonstrate with her; but she'd gone over to smash Denzyl's bodhran over his head.
I may have rushed in where gerbils fear to tread here - moved faster than the Beaker Folk's ability to develop better personalities. But I will not go back on my search for emotional authenticity. Wasn't it St Paul who said, "Above all, to thyself be true"? I feel in a sense we've made a breakthrough today - and not just through the skin of that bhodran. No, I am just going to refine the concept.
Tomorrow we're going to be putting large Psychic Bins by the Moot House doors. It's gonna be "Leave Your True Feelings in the Narthex Day." One step at time.