So, my wife and I have recently taken out a mortgage for a beautiful flat in a new developmentits still all scaffolding and wet paint, you know the type. We absolutely must have it blessed! No ones lived here before, and how could we possibly settle in without Gods blessing? my gran started in straight away, not missing a beat. Of course it needs blessing, theres no way we can risk bringing bad luck upon ourselves. We need happiness, joy, and good fortune in our new place, Mum chimed in, backing up Grans insistence. Even though we were both a bit sceptical at first, there was just no standing up to that kind of pressure, so we agreed to have a blessing ceremony.
Its absolutely essential! Gran declared, as if there was truly no debate. Right on the dot, doorbell rings and in comes this vicar with a shock of grey hair and an impressive beard. Around his neck he wore a chunky cross on an even chunkier chain, clutching a little thurible and a rather battered old bag. He handed each of us a candle and started explaining what we were meant to do next.
My dear ones, the vicar said in this very grand voice, light your candles and follow behind me. We all lined up as instructed, half-expecting something quite solemn and maybe a little magical. Thats when Dad tried lighting his candle, and would you believe, it just wouldnt catch. Instead it fizzed, spat smoke everywhere, and stubbornly refused to burn no matter what we tried. After a handful of failed attempts, the vicar quickly gathered up his things and stuffed them back in his bag.
You must all get out, get out! Theres something not right about this place… he said, sounding rather alarmed. His face was dead serious, voice urgent as he hurried out the door, leaving us all standing there open-mouthed and more than a little confused.
What a peculiar vicarand even stranger candles, my wife remarked, raising an eyebrow as we noticed that, strangely enough, the vicars candle was now perfectly fine.
Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed and wasnt quite in the spirit for a ceremony, Mum joked, trying to lighten the mood.
He talked the talk but legged it in the end. Mustve been no Wi-Fi in there for him, I joked back, desperate to see the funny side of it all. But where could we even run to? Were tied here for the next fifteen years with all these bills! I added, grinning in spite of myself.
So, are we sticking it out here, or shall we go and hunt down another vicar? Grans voice brought us back to reality and had us wondering how on earth to fix this rather bizarre predicament.
