Living Death at St Ps

Living Death at St Paul's

Sunday 10:30 am

Grateful for the lift given to me this morning, a mile is a long way to walk these days, I gladly entered the building. As we arrived a large white car proceeded before us, we waited patiently while the driver parked in the next space.  From the car a young blonde decanted and headed towards the church.  We men looked, muttered 'Hmmm...' quietly so his wife could not hear, and thought, this looks good.  I decided to make it my place to greet her.

However, Inside, while I obtained a glass of water to avoid drying up during the service, the young lady, and they are all young to me now, was greeted by Graham and Jenny on the doors in their friendly and efficient manner, and so was I when I walked through the door.  Having been greeted I turned to take my seat in the usual place.

Then it happened!

The blonde was sitting in my seat!

I gasped at Graham, ‘She’s in my seat!’

‘I said sit wherever you like, so she did,’ he replied grinning too happily for my liking.

'But that's MY seat!' I gasped quietly while a cold bead of sweat ran down my neck.  'I've sat there for nearly 10 years,' I muttered.  Graham sniggered somewhat too keenly for my liking, especially as his permanent seat at the back had been claimed already by Jenny.  He was not going to be homeless this morning.  'And you are not allowed to chuck her out either,' he ordered like the sergeant major he wished he was.  He wandered off to greet others while I stood staring into space.  I came ready for anything this morning, but not something as shocking as this!  She was in my seat!  Not only was she happily ensconced there, but all around people were greeting her while aiming more smirks in my direction.  Wars have been begun for less than this!  

Looking around the hall I noticed all the seats at the end of a row were taken. A very Anglican approach. The only empty seats were at the front. 

At the front! No-one sits at the front of an Anglican church, no-one! I began to gasp again.

Gordon however, stood alongside me offering condolences. ‘You could sit on one of the empty seats in the middle of the row,’ he offered somewhat fatuously. No-one chooses to sit in the middle, that is just not done, unless you are accompanying someone. I noticed his sneaky leer as he spoke, he too has his seat booked, though he sits in the middle because she has told him to, and that's that. 'Five empty seats at the front on the left,’ he said, his finger pointing in that direction.  The front!  I began to shake.  'Sit ant the front, and be near all the action,' he said slowly and with cruel intent.  Cold sweat was beginning to run down my neck by this time. My shaky knees were shaking, my trembling hands trembled, and Gordon asked if he should hold my glass before I washed the carpet. This I declined, mostly because my hand was gripping the tumbler hard and I feared I might break it in letting go. I also needed a wet blanket to hold onto at that moment.

I kept glaring at my seat, it had my name on it too! In fact, all the seats have my name on them, I scrawled it upon them one day while no-one was around, just in case.

The blonde did not move, it was not the done thing to throw her out, and people were beginning to gather. The shaking continued, cold beads continued to run down my neck, I stared hard at each seat, including my own now in colonial possession, and prayed, almost out loud.

Glory be!  Just then I saw an empty end seat, though it was on the second row from the front to the right.  This would have to do, Hallelujah! Sweating, I barged past the crowd being greeted by smirk and his wife, forced my way to the free seat, triumphantly grasped the chair, spread myself across the next one also, just in case someone joined me, a trick I learned while travelling on the London Underground all those years ago, and rested while the steam rose from my now, relaxed body.

How close was that?