My wife and I had just taken out a mortgage on a charming flat in a new and rather up-and-coming neighbourhoodso new, in fact, that workmen still bustled about making their final touches. We must have it blessed! my grandmother declared resolutely, her voice brimming with conviction. Its completely untouchednobody has ever lived here before, and surely, we mustnt move in without Gods blessing. Of course, the flat had to be properly dedicated; we couldn’t possibly risk having any ill fortune befall us. We need happiness, joy, and a good measure of prosperity in our new home, my mother chimed in, heartily supporting the suggestion.
Despite our initial reluctance, family insistence wore us down, and we agreed to arrange a house blessing. Its absolutely essential, Gran said, and that settled the matter.
On the appointed day, just as the church bells would have struck had we been nearer St. Peters, the doorbell rang. Standing there was a vicarhis hair streaked with silver, a full beard, and the air of a man whod seen much. Around his neck hung a heavy crucifix on a thick chain, and in his hands he carried a well-worn satchel and a censer. He handed each of us a candle, and proceeded to explain the ritual with an air of utmost solemnity.
My dear friends, the vicar intoned gravely, please light your candles and follow after me. We obediently fell in line behind him, ready for the sacred ceremony. Yet, as my father tried to light his candle, nothing went right. The wick sputtered, smoked, and point blank refused to take, no matter how he tried. After several fruitless attempts, the vicar hastily gathered his belongings, stuffing them back into his bag without delay.
Out, out, all of youtheres something not right here he muttered, visibly shaken. His urgency palpable, he clutched his bag and left our flat in a flurry, leaving us bemused and more than a little perplexed.
Well, that was the oddest vicar and even odder candle, my wife mused aloud, watching as the vicars own candle now burned without trouble.
Perhaps he was just out of sorts todaymaybe thats why the ritual wouldnt work, my mother joked, trying to bring some lightness to what had become an extraordinary afternoon.
He talks such sense, but then darts off at the end. Perhaps theres no wireless wherever hes gone, I thought, searching for something to laugh about in this peculiar encounter. And where would we run to anyway? For the next fifteen years, every farthing of ours is tied up right here with this mortgage, I added, grinning wryly.
Well, shall we stay put, or try to find another vicar? Grans voice brought us back to the moment, leaving us pondering how to proceed after such an unexpected turn of events.
