I don’t know if it’s been five or six days now that Gone has been on our doorstep every morning. This morning I took the kids out to school through the back door, so we didn’t have to stop and have a long chat at that frantic time.
When I returned (also through the back), the Vicar was flustering in the kitchen. Gone had rung the doorbell four times, each time in a more aggressive way. The Vicar had gone out to chat to him and he asked for a packet of crisps. The Vicar offered him some bread and asked him what he’d like on top. He was fine with butter.
But when the Vicar brought out crisps, toast and butter Gone shouted that he’d expected beans on toast. He threw the bread into the flower border and swore and cursed. Then he apologised and prayed with the Vicar.
The cheese was a bit skimpy but definitely there
The Vicar began again in the kitchen, this time having said he’d make cheese on toast, and that’s when I came home. I took over the sandwich production and took it to the door.
A minute later the bell rang. ‘There’s no cheese on this,’ Gone shouted as he threw his food in the flower bed and stormed off.
I shut the door. What to do?
The Vicar's Wife 
Tell him to go and sit on Gordon Ramsey’s doorstep.
Hi Josa, and welcome to the Vicarage. Great idea! Gordon Ramsey’s cheese on toast would be better than mine. And Gone would give Gordon a run for his money when it comes to ripe language…
A vicar’s wife friend of mine once made ham sandwiches for a tramp on the doorstep, only to have them rejected because he was a vegetarian!
It was lovely meeting you yesterday evening and I enjoyed reading your blog! You might even get me hooked!
Gone’s fussy eating habits reminded me of a friendly tramp at our last parish – a true man-of-the-road who toured Derbyshire going from one vicarage to the next. He liked peanut butter sandwiches, and would have a round to eat, a couple of rounds to take with him, a mug of tea with 4 sugars, and a refill of his plastic bottle with more of the same sugary tea. More than once we had to go to the shops afterwards because he had eaten all our bread!
He didn’t have any of the problems of Gone – was never drunk, always friendly and never threw the food away!! I never found out much about him, other than his favourite football team. But then he just stopped coming. We wondered what had happened to him – did he find somewhere to live, or did something happen to him?
Well done for all you are doing for Gone – the System just doesn’t work for him.
I’ll try and think of some funny vicarage stories for you. Writing “rector’s wife” at the top of this reminded me of one…
Our last parish was a well-off Derbyshire village, one of those that the estate agents describe as “sought-after”. One day someone (unconnected to the village and parish) came to visit the Rector for an important (for them) meeting, and was quite anxious not to be late. They couldn’t find the Rectory (it wasn’t obvious!) so stopped a lady walking along the road. The person concerned foolishly asked the lady if she knew where the vicarage was. The lady replied sternly “This is XXX, we don’t have a Vicar here, we have a Rector”. And then gave directions. You can just imagine how the visitor felt when they finally arrived!
It was great to meet you too, Rector’s Wife. I’ve been missing Gone a bit too – he’s been on our doorstep early the last few days, but disappeared before we emerge blinking into the sunlight. I look forward to hearing more of your stories 🙂