The MadGang Go Home ( Briefly )

This bank holiday weekend we travelled south to Northamptonshire to visit my folks. It was nearly thirty years ago that I left my home town to begin my theological training in Nottingham. Three years later I moved to the northernmost county in England and my visits south have been infrequent to say the least. Therefore it is not the town I used to know. To be honest, what was once a small town backwater in the shires has become part of London. You hear the Essex accent far more than you hear the rural twang of the East Northants accent I still slip into when I've had a few pints.

It's been a bitter-sweet visit. I left my home town with great hopes of being a parish priest. So, having failed so miserably to achieve my dream because of a disastrous first curacy with a child grooming, woman hating, self-loving training vicar, I have felt somewhat depressed throughout the trip. Also, spending time with my elderly parents and realising that I am only twenty years off being their age has reminded me that I've really fucked my life up and that it is now too late to make being born worth the effort. It does not seem fair that one decision, in my case accepting a curacy position that seemed fine beforehand, can completely ruin a whole life. Of course, if the Church of England wasn't rotten to the core with posh boys covering up the nastiness of their kind, blowing the whistle on a paedophile wouldn't mean the end of everything you have worked for. But it is so there is absolutely no hope for me and people like me.

Never mind. We go home tomorrow. I'll be just as unemployed up north, of course, but at least I will not be constantly reminded of the time when I still had my life ahead of me and believed I was going to spend it as a parish priest. What a waste!

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