Sean was away so I was leading the study. The dreadful weather must have put people off as numbers were low so I was in confident mood to begin. And therein lay my downfall.
'Can I ask a question?' one of our more characterful fairly-regulars asked.
'Yes, of course.'
Have you ever tried to be Jesus?'
'I have. It's f***ing hard. Whoops, sorry.'
We were supposed to be reading, thinking about and learning from the book of Daniel, from the bit where Nebuchadnezzar has some bad dreams and threatens to kill all the sorcerers/wise men because they can't tell him a) what his dream was; b) what it meant. (Which seems a trifle harsh unless you think that a sorcerer who claims to be able to tell you the future should be able to tell you the past as well.)
So how we ended up considering complaints about the night shelter is a mystery. Mind you we did get there via 'Why did the police say all the Jews want to go back to Israel?' and 'Why are there all these different churches - evan-whatever it was, Roman catholic, Buddhist, c of e? It's just confusing.'
And all this was conducted with a faint background hum of chatter. It's no wonder I came home hoarse.
Oh yes, and was Jesus a Jew?
But the cake with which we celebrated Nicky's birthday tasted good.