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| Where ever a Catholic sun does shine...... |
One member of the group, a shooting man, had brought several brace of pheasants for some of us more fortunate ones and they were dotted around the floor at regular intervals.
The sherry and red wine was flowing and, in the babble of conversation could be heard a learned Professor and some learned non academics conducting a conversation, first in Ancient Greek and then in Hebrew.
Us commoners knuckled our foreheads and got stuck into the victuals.
If you wished to epitomise the cross section of laity who attend the Tridentine Mass you could not have a better example. No sign of political correctness, a great deal of laughter (some of it a shade rustic and irreverent), a little alcohol and dead game.
Perfect!
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