Joy what joy

To cease upon the midnight with no payne. Joy what joy. There is nothing more pleasante in this little world of ours than spending a Sunday evening with a local vicar, dining out, nibbling on a slice of Madeira cake, and drinking a fine glass of the best Fonseca port. Joy, what joy. Yes the Rev was in good form last night. Lots to download. Lots to discuss. Lots of coq au vin, roast potatoes, roast parsnips a favourite, and carrots and broccoli. Then the finest slightly over-cooked bread I have tasted for years from his goodly wifey. We discussed the passing of a great figure, the outgoing Archbishop of Cantuar - red as the ace of diamonds, but lovely chappie, sorely missed already. Very nice evening indeed. The Rev was in fine fettle.