Monday 1 March 2010

Crashaw's Diary (part viii)

Wednesday, 1st March
Old Mrs Price told me an amusing story today. Every night for the last forty years Price has woken her in the night to tell her something that struck him as funny. It never was. Last night Price had woken her and told her something that actually was funny and they had both roared with laughter. However, when she told me, she could not remember for the life of her what it was.

High Jinks, Low Jokes

A man of Low Church leanings was visiting Bath in the 1850s and was distressed to see how many of the churches there had gone over to ritualistic practices. Here were altars decked with coloured cloths, where priests officiated in ornate vestments, swinging censers and chanting. In some churches there were even confessional boxes. Finally the man retired to his lodging where, in contrast, he found everything to his liking. There were upright chairs and simple furnishing and, best of all, no dried flower petals in little baskets. “I trust you find everything to your satisfaction?” his landlady asked. “No pot-pourri!” he beamed.