hmm

Scene: guesthouse of the lovely Benedictine nuns of Minster in Kent (who are too unworldly to have a website, so no link, sorry). Retreatants drinking tea before Compline. While washing my mug, I hear fellow-retreatant A say:
'So does anyone feel cold here?'
Which is a fair question, as it has been getting chillier. But, being unwarrantedly proud of my harsh Pictish (or thereabouts) blood, I reply from the sink,
'Well, I'm Scottish.'
Bewildered silence.
'So I don't feel cold anywhere...,' I clarify.
More bewildered looks. 'I'm Irish, but I don't see...' says fellow-retreatant B.
The penny (St Benedict medal?) begins to drop.
'Um. You said - '
'Does anyone feel called here?' repeats fellow-retreatant A.

Hilarity (as they say) ensues.


I can't help thinking that this mishearing is somehow deeply meaningful, but have no idea what, if anything, He's trying to say...

A retreat at Minster is thoroughly to be recommended, anyway, even if you're not in the habit of saying really stupid things based on foolish national pride.