The clocks went back on Sunday. We forgot. We arrived for 11.30 mass at what we thought was 11.45 (punctual as ever). It was in fact 10.45 and the priest was finishing 10.00 mass. As we walked through the door, he said, “The mass is ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” Daniel, who had been the cause of our lateness, was very taken aback. He had been told that, if he hurried, he would not miss the Sunday school thing in the sacristy. Now, mass had ended. He started to howl at the top of his voice (a very loud place), “Mass is ended, oh no, mass is ended.” You might have thought that fellow worshippers would have rejoiced at this evidence of youthful enthusiasm, but no.
Great that Daniel is so keen on the Sunday School. Hugh has to be dragged to it kicking and screaming. I haven’t attempted it the last two Sundays while he has been coldy, scabby and puffy; slightly dreading trying again this weekend now he is better…
This reminds me of a joke we played on our cinnere (sp?) in Irish College. We turned the clocks forward and pretended that we had all overslept. The poor girl was so stressed getting us through breakfast and out the door and then we arrived at school half an hour early. The ban-an-ti was in on it and heroically made us an early breakfast. A bit evil of us in retrospect (but it was La na Joke na Cinnere or what have you – you can see how well my Irish has lasted).
Our Sunday school lady is a primary school teacher and she gives them a sweet each. They are hooked by the combination.
QoP, am trying, in vain to guess what cinnere is. I have a v. complex anecdote involving a friend and her father’s antique clock shop which I will tell you next time I see you, there’s something to look forward to…
That’s a reaction you don’t often hear at the end of mass.