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It was too hot to wear hats at our door yesterday

It was too hot to wear hats at our door yesterday

Things always get busier in the Vicarage when the sun is out. We get a lot more callers. So yesterday, just before teatime, we had four rings at the doorbell in the space of about twenty minutes. It was busy but fun and I enjoyed interspersing the construction of last night’s mango and rice noodle salad to chat with people visiting at random:

1. Charming called round with her brother and another boy who’d been playing with him to collect the water pistol that had been left in our garden on Saturday. And to ask for an orange for a cake they were about to bake at home. We had no oranges but I gave her a lemon as a substitute.

2. Lovely had a pair of summer shoes she’d bought in a cheap deal at the market and didn’t need, so she brought them to us. They fit the Queen, who was delighted to have a new pair of mucking about pumps.

3. Then a gaggle of half a dozen lads in their early teens called. They had in tow a shirtless chap in his twenties who looked a bit befuddled. The boys explained that the chap needed a taxi to the next town. I explained that we didn’t give money at the door, but if he came back later, the Vicar (who was out) would help him catch a bus. The chap didn’t seem to speak much English. He didn’t return, so I assume he made it home under his own steam.

4. Wildchild rang the bell continuously until I opened the door. She was with two of her friends and they wanted forms for the youth trip to a laser game tomorrow. I redirected her to Dreamer’s house, where the forms were to be found, and gave the girls a few pointers on doorbell and asking-for-forms etiquette (one ring is enough, it’s ‘please may I have’ not ‘I want’).

I do love the unpredictability of Vicarage life. You never know who God is going to send to your doorstep.

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It’s been a bit of a doorbell day here at the Vicarage. They are always brought on by sunshine. Kids calling for our kids, and neighbours calling with news.

Ding dong. Is the Vicar in? Or his wife?

I was asked to call the out-of-hours doctor for Glamourpuss, who was laid up in severe pain and without any credit on her phone. Later, other parishioners ring the doorbell and keep me updated – she has been called back by NHS Direct… the ambulance is on its way… there she goes off to hospital with suspected DVT.

Then, as the kids are off to bed and we’re hoping for a bit of a chilldown, the doorbell goes again. It’s Lostboy, a lad with learning difficulties, who is almost impossible to understand. He’s on his scooter and I think he’s asking where the Vicar is, but I’m not sure. I tell him where the Vicar is (upstairs, putting his children to bed) and he seems to be happy. He’s called round daily for the past few days. Hopefully he’ll find what he’s after.

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