Pope in his own Chapel

Drayton Parslow is starting to get on my nerves. No, check that. Drayton Parslow has always got on my nerves. But he's worse at the moment.

Having given up the Modern World on moral grounds has left him with so much spare time. I just met him wandering down School Lane, humming "We will overcome".

I've tried to accuse him of pride - told him that he just wants to be a famous ex-blogger, like Church Mouse or the mysteriously-productive Phil Ritchie. Then I turned it round, and told him that if you want to be a famous ex-blogger you need to be a famous blogger in the first place. But he smiled that sickening, beatific smile of his, and went off singing "O for a thousand tongues to sing".

I saw Marjory a bit later, knitting some potato peelings into a nice cardie, and she gave me the distinct impression of being a formidable woman who wants her creature comforts back. I don't think it's long before Drayton is back with us in the 21st Century. That's the thing with these people in believe in Male Headship. It's all very well doing that at Church. But it's never going to work in the Real World.