I’m lucky enough to have a big derelict building at the end of my street. The broad steps in front of it are occupied from mid-afternoon onwards by the local winos, but in the mornings anyone can use the space. Last week some ladies in green quilted waistcoats stood among the empty bottles and dried up body fluids and set up a sandwich board advertising Free Prayers.
I wasn’t busy and felt that I could do with a boost, so I told one of the ladies what I needed, then I stood next to her while she shut her eyes, clasped her hands in front of her bosom and said a sort of poem from my words, then I continued on home.
I was a bit sceptical, then excited. Then I got anxious because if Jesus really did send me a pony, I wasn’t sure where I’d put it. This morning though I witnessed a true miracle. On burning my toast the clear image of a pony appeared - I’m not so sceptical now am I?
All that Jesus has to arrange now is for Whiplash and I to get off to Spain - she’s successfully bribed the courts to put off her next hearing, but she is singing with her band tonight and the gig/after party needs to end before the 6am flight.
If it works we’re away for a week – so see you later!
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