Man A: I was going to kill myself.
Bigmouth 1: You mustn't do that. God gave us life and it's a sin to take it away.
Bigmouth 2: It's the coward's way out.
Barely-restrained-anger Man: My son killed himself.
Thoughts in my head: crappity-crappity-crappity-crap.
Bigmouth 1: Well, I got as far as throwing a rope over a branch but then I realised I was being selfish.
Thoughts in my head: ooooh crappity-crappity-crappity-crap.
I'm not quite sure how we reached this point in last night's bible study in Zac's. We were looking at the final chapter in Peter's first letter and, though the letter is dominated by thoughts of putting up with suffering and being submissive, the last paragraphs are reasonably upbeat and encouraging. But here we'd reached a point where people were vying with each other over tales of 'how I nearly committed suicide.' I was beginning to think I should just ask, 'Is there anyone who hasn't tried?' But I didn't: I couldn't make myself heard. Fortunately, eventually, Ric said, loudly, 'Out of respect for b-r-a Man maybe we should curtail this discussion.'
But apart from that, Mrs Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?
Well, it was a good evening. A reasonable group and a lively discussion. At the end Rowland, our wise elder, said to me, 'Well done, Liz. Your confidence was infectious and encouraged others to contribute. Very well done.'
It's a wonder my head didn't burst it was swelling so much.
Offering cakes around at the end I held out the plate to Steve. He took one and said, 'Thanks, Kay.'
I'd moved on before it sank in. I turned back, 'What did you call me?'
'Um, Kay.' (You have to know Kay to understand my - um, surprise.)
There'll be payback.