I went to a baptism the other day, in a lovely old empty church. It was one of those brilliant afternoons when the sunlight coming in through the old mullioned windows looks like beams of butter.
The tall smiling priest introduced himself as the “baptismer.” “And this,” he said, “is our baptismee, in the lovely white frilly dress. His name is Vincent, as you know.”
Vincent was a couple of months old and just past...
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