The Ordination Retreat

I gave up my life ten years ago and started to live.
I stopped working and have never worked harder;

and as I think of those ten years I remember where it all began.

That last day and first day combined;

and the ordination retreat:

Ten years ago.
There we were,
ready
willing
and unable to stop the express train that is ordination;
locked in a pub' in the early hours of the morning,
sitting in a corner nursing our beers,
laughing over our fears.

Then comes a knocking at the door
at twenty to four (I tell the truth)
and the door is opened
and he comes in.
A Police Officer,
not Jesus

(although that would have been nice)!

And over he comes to us
asking who we are
and what brings us to the place
so we tell him,

We're almost Vicars,'

and smiling,
he buys us a drink
and wishes us well!

Dawn arrives
and the congregation,
disturbed by her appearance,
replete and cheery,
leave
and so do we.

Back to the ordination retreat
with its farce-like silence
bordering on madness
as people,
in pursuit of ketchup,
gesticulate and madly mime.

As the woman serving us
bangs plates upon the tables
and the background music
suddenly bursts into Wagner
and the Valkaries ride
on the wings of our silent sobs
of suppressed laughter
and released nerves
which scamper around the room
releasing even more
and the sniggering rises
causing tears to run
shoulders to shake
and a disapproving glare from the leader
as he leaves in disgust!