Photo credits

The Embalse de Riano in northern Spain. The picture was taken by .... me!

Monday, April 29

Mrs mid-life crisis - the next installment.

Following our recent big row, my wife had come to terms with things and decided that maybe I was right; maybe we should stay in this area. In fact, there were indications of a vacancy on the PCC, and I arranged for her to get nominated. In fact, on that Sunday morning we heard that they short of people, so it sounded like a walk-in job.

However, she spent a lot of time preparing her ‘hustings’ speech, focussing on God’s concern for the marginalised in society.

We then found out that on that Sunday evening, the Vicar had gone round rounding up all the usual suspects – the ‘in crowd’- to stand for the PCC too.

So at the APCM there were 10 candidates for 6 vacancies.

Mrs’ speech was definitely the best in terms of content, but she came across as very nervous compared to all the others. It was her first time doing this kind of thing, whereas the others are all establishment figures who have been on the PCC before, and who probably didn’t really want to go on it again anyway, so they were much more relaxed.

You will have guessed by now that she didn’t get in. And that she has once again gone overboard with the sense of rejection. Obviously the nerves had a part to play, but it is hard to battle the conspiracy theory that the Vicar deliberately rounded up his favourites to keep her off the PCC.

So all the other crazy plans of selling up and moving away are back on the table.

I wish I had something sane and credible to offer her, but there really does seem to be nothing available to overcome the prejudices in the local church.

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