I thought it would be interesting to see how they’re all getting on, back at the ranch. Make sure that the traditional hospitality towards strangers, the same level of care is in evidence.
So, taking note of the (apparently spurious) story of Pastor Jeremiah Steepek, I dressed up as a poor person – it hurt, I can tell you – and headed off to Husborne Crawley. I parked the jalopy in the White Horse car park, and headed across School Lane.
An odd thing. None of the leadership team were there. Oric told me they had all taken themselves off to check through company ownership records. I may have to drop an email to Charlii dissuading her from stuff like that – you never know what you may find. But there was a “meditation on the works of Lt Columbo” going on, led by Stacey Bushes in a fairly shambolic style.
So as I went in, nobody took much notice of me. As I left again afterwards, nobody spoke to me. But, as I was 10 or so yards from the Moot House door, a voice called me back. It was Marston Moretaine.
“We can’t just let you go like that,” he said. Then he gave me a Gift Aid form, a standing order mandate and a catalogue for the Beaker Bazaar, and held out the collection plate with a knowing look.
Honestly, it’s as if I was running it all the time! Charlii’s doing a good job. I still stamped on Marston’s foot, though.